The Lily and the BLADE
by NullNoMore
Summary: Underneath the Administrative District, right next to the hangar elevator, there is the Auxiliary Skell Refueling Station 1.0, run by the NPC Lila Brown. At least in my mind. If you read enough, you'll see Alexa, both Laras, H.B., and Vandham. Lots of Vandham. Swears, violence, fluff, all game spoilers. All the good stuff belongs to the amazing people of Monolith Soft. Thank you.
1. Lucky

**Lucky**

 **A/N: What was the crew thinking when the Whale was attacked? Lila can tell you her story.**

 **Set pre-game, on the White Whale, swears and spoilers to Ch. 5 and possibly all game. Lila is not Cross, she's not even close, just an NPC with a blue speech bubble with useful info on skell fuel usage. She & Gino (also not Cross) are mine, everything else belongs to the geniuses of MONOLITH SOFT.**

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Dear god, why? Because...

Not everyone could make it to the safety of what would eventually become New Los Angeles on the day the great ship fell out of the sky. That was when the escape pods came into play. It was what they were designed for, after all, although the designers could hardly have foreseen the exact horror unfolding over Mira. These pods could carry groups of ten to safety on any nearby planet. If you had delayed too long, or were blocked from reaching the main Habitat Unit, this was your only hope.

Lila had done the first and was now faced with the second. She and Gino had stayed too long in the power relay room, putting out flames, hampered by the growing clutter of empty fire extinguishers at their feet. Then the great tangle of cables went dark, the ones that fed the Habitat Unit directly from the engine room.

"That's it. They've given up," said Gino.

Lila thought it was probably worse. The Chief would never give up. (In fact, the Chief Engineer had been literally thrown out of the engine control room by the first in the final, destructive round of explosions, and would have launched himself straight back in, flame, smoke and all, but for the blast doors slamming shut right on his pugnacious nose.)

She had bolted into the hallway, Gino at her heels. She still held a half empty fire extinguisher (optimists would say half full, but optimism was not very popular at that moment). Lila suddenly realized the hallway was as full of smoke as the relay room had been. The emergency lights were dimmed from the power failure, and a sudden slight tilt of the floor, quickly restored to balance, hinted that the artificial gravity was not all it should be.

"Come on," said Gino, running down the hall.

"I think... I think it's this way...," said Lila and coughed suddenly as a wave of blacker than usual smoke rushed out of the relay room. The smell of the smoke took on a more poisonous stench too.

"You don't know shit," shouted Gino from where the corridor took a sharp corner. She ran after him, not as quickly but steadily, hugging the fire extinguisher. "Forget that," gasped Gino, but she ignored him. Glad she was too, as they hit what seemed like a pure wall of fire racing toward them. She hosed Gino and herself as they scrambled frantically back, diving into a smaller corridor.

"What now?" gasped Gino. Lila tried to think, concentrating on the schematics of the ship she'd memorized. Actually, she'd spent a lot of time memorizing things during the past two years, and it all seemed to want to jump into first place right now. Think! Think! She'd memorized the plans not just because she was a good little member of the engineering team. She'd memorized them because she was constantly disoriented those first months, and whenever that happened she tended to panic. Strangely, she wasn't panicking now, just trying to grasp enough clues to decide which way to go. Level 11, starboard, almost the exact center of the ship.

"Of course! The escape pods!" She trotted down the corridors, making a series of quick lefts and rights. Even as the floor tilted sickly almost 30 degrees, she kept on course. Gino stayed beside her until the last hallway when he sprinted ahead. Lila couldn't even mutter under her breath in dismay. Just as well, because "Don't take the last pod, jerkface" wouldn't make inspiring last words.

They weren't the only ones at the station. There were several sets of pods, but they could only launch in sequence, with a few minutes delay in between each launch. Nine people waited for the next launch. Eleven, now that she and Gino had arrived. One too many, and she was last.

"Begin loading sequence," said the computerized voice, and the group rushed into the pods. "Leave her behind, she doesn't deserve to be here," shouted a tall man as he pushed past.

Lila didn't even shrug. "Rock paper scissors?" she said weakly to Gino, and when he hesitated, she plastered a smile on her smoke-covered face and pushed him towards the ten personal capsules. "I'll see you on the surface," she said, a little too cheerfully.

"Sorry about what I said back there." And Gino scooted through the door.

The door slid shut, hissing as it sealed, and the great pod, the size of a largish silvery garden shed, shifted back several meters, clicking loudly into an overhead rail. Yet another door sealed, much larger, and with a more elaborate clicking sound. It took a minute before the pod reached the edge of the exit tunnel. Another door opened, silently, or at least with no chance for sound to reach her. The boosters on the pod ignited, a small, silent, friendly explosion, and it plunged away into darkness.

"Well, that's that. Let's start the sequence," said Lila to herself. One button to push, one acknowledgement, then another, the process was fairly short, as if the ship already was expecting her answers, leaving her with several minutes of waiting for the first pod to clear and the next pod to be deemed ready.

She hoped she wouldn't have to travel alone. She hoped, in the exact same moment, that no one else needed to travel with her. She hoped that the Chief and the team were okay, that everyone was okay, although as heat started to radiate from the closed entrance doors, she knew that was not going to be true. The lights dimmed further, and she scooted closer to the pod's door, still shut as the prep sequence followed its course.

"Well, of course I don't deserve to be here," she muttered. She already knew that comment would rankle. She actually appreciated the opportunity to argue an unimportant point with someone not even there, killing time while she waited helplessly for the chance to escape. She'd recognized the man, not from close contact, but because she'd memorized personnel logs along with schematics. His cousin, Gloria, she actually had known her, back on ... Lila stopped, restarted the argument, she'd known Gloria back when the White Whale was being built, a good engineer, sweet and talented, and shunted off the project during the last weeks, left behind for the sake of someone with connections or bribes or who knew what other dark secrets. Lila had found a lot of those during her reading. It amazed her what was there to be learned, if anyone bothered to go into details.

Gloria deserved to be on the ship. Lila was here simply because of luck. But, really, everyone deserved that luck, everyone back on … She paused again. Even after two years, she still wasn't ready to directly face the thing that happened. Other people talked about July 2054, of everyone and everything they'd lost. They listed it, memorialized it, ranked it, wept over it, tried to discover a solution that would have prevented it. All of that was probably a healthy response. Lila acted like life had begun aboard the White Whale, mostly, with nothing and no one from before. Not healthy, but not so uncommon among the crew. How do you begin? Do you miss your parents first, or your neighbors, or your country? How do you mourn for an ocean? So people had ignored it. The Chief had kept silent, so had Gino, she'd liked that about those two.

She hoped they'd be okay.

She switched back to the imaginary argument. Not being able to talk about the time before was hampering her. The countdown clock still read 4 minutes, so she risked a few memories, not very important, to prove the innocent nature of her luck.

It was a gentle November night and Lila had arranged to meet friends at a bar (gone gone gone lost destroyed) (no, stop), somewhat off campus. She'd rolled into the Boston area on shore leave, and thought to look them up, partly to reminisce, and partly to ask, ever so obliquely, about possible opportunities for a retired submariner. Not that she was unhappy with her position. Actually, she loved the Navy even more than when she had first enlisted, but something seemed to be hollowed out from the whole military. Projects weren't supported, almost through lack of interest. She wondered if it was just her, if she had reached the edge of possible promotions, or if it was a general retooling that she'd probably be too old for once it truly started. Either way, she wanted to check the outside, just to be prepared.

But none of her friends had made it. A kid with a sudden fever, an international conference call, a vague promise of coffee (LOL! Soon! Or never, she suspected). She'd had a beer, considered having a sandwich, tried to relax, and looked around. Graduate students, a few locals, it was too early for crowds, a weeknight to boot. The older, professionally dressed woman down the bar stood out, which made Lila wonder how she hadn't recognized her at once.

"Hey, Professor Dominick, small world," Lila spoke, jumping past her own hesitation, trying to figure why the electrical engineering prof was there.

Something suggested the woman was working on a serious round of drinking. The extra cocktail napkins, the way the bartender brought another round at once, the speed the older woman swallowed the whiskey, whiskey that Lila recognized as a Japanese brand you were supposed to sip and prose over, making its ridiculous price seem justified while subtly bragging about your intelligence and wealth. She looked at her carefully and decided this wasn't an alcoholic routine. This was the response to strong emotion, and Lila guessed that emotion might be terror. The professor looked a little shaky, a little grey, and her too-wide eyes darted about, trying to catch onto something safe. There was a story here, and Lila suddenly wanted to know it. She'd liked Professor Dominick, a sharp-voiced woman, scrupulously fair, who had the blessed ability to explain things clearly and concretely, in a way that kept her lectures from evaporating from your brain as soon as you hit sunshine outside.

It was so easy. Lila sipped her beer and the story rolled out. She hardly had to say a word after that first greeting.

"Small world indeed. You're the second returning student I've had the pleasure of seeing today. You must know Hector, brilliant boy, he went into the military just like you."

Lila didn't correct her. The man in question was years younger, and had started long after she had graduated. Lila had heard groans about the prodigy from those friends lucky enough to stay for advanced degrees. He'd blazed through not one but three departments, nabbing prizes and breaking (intellectual) hearts, before polishing off a Ph.D., all in 3 and a half years, flat, and then leaving, mercifully for the Air Force. Lila was glad to let the flyboys enjoy the wunderkind.

"He came to visit me. Such a brilliant mind. I always enjoyed him during his short time with us, and I was glad to hear directly from him. Such a pleasure." The professor's voice wobbled a bit.

Lila kept silent but tried to look as friendly and safe as possible.

"Always glad to see a student, always glad," Professor Dominick repeated. The woman took a breath and then spoke rapidly, without pause. "He said he was working on a project, a space project of all things, intended to evacuate as much of the human population as possible. Within the next four years, he said, maybe less. Not for colonization, or exploration, he was very clear, merely to get as many people safely away from, well, he didn't say what was coming, but he felt that it would be pointless to defend or prevent or … well, he mentioned fighting, surely that must have been a misunderstanding. He thought I might be interested in helping, although it would involve a move to California."

The professor looked up, a certain decisive if drunken superiority in her face, now that the tale was out of the way. She was clearly ready to reject it. "So very ridiculous. Of course, I looked it up once he left. There was nothing about it, absolutely nothing. The location he mentioned is merely a solar array, the leader he named is the energy plant manager, I believe she's fairly well respected in the field. It's all connected to a scheme for a battery manufacturing super-factory. I was disappointed that he felt he had to tease me that way. I am perfectly able to accept that some things must be kept military secrets. I don't need science fiction to keep me happy."

Lila had laughingly agreed, and the conversations had switched to some very concrete topics, right down to odds on the Army-Navy game (she had staunchly if foolishly supported Navy's chances for that year). She was glad that the professor had slowed her drinking, and more glad when the woman asked the bartender to get her a cab ("Sharing economy, nonsense, it's a way of skimming the wealth and pushing down the risk.") Lila had finished her beer, seen the woman out, and headed straight back to her hotel.

By the end of the week, Petty Officer Brown had sent a resume and 3 references to what she sincerely hoped was the project in question.

She had found the White Whale early and she had some interesting qualifications. That might have been enough to get her in, or perhaps not. But she had a second piece of extraordinary luck, in the form of one of her references. Not her captain, good man that he was, or the head of engineering on her previous boat, also a solid reference. No, she had gone wide, almost weird, on her third reference, sending a request to the head of a strange and short-lived project from a few years back, and that had done the trick.

The Navy had been trying to use gravitational propulsion on smaller ships, without much success. After the first month, Lila had been longing to get back to the submarines and away from what felt like pointless tinkering. That changed when a new project leader stormed in, a man-mountain of an engineer who had taken over, pounded out a solution and promptly and correctly declared it utterly impractical. All over in 3 months. Lila had taken a risk, sending a reference request to him, in the hopes that this would prove she was more than your usual grease monkey. She actually hadn't been very key to the project, mostly fetching this and that and tightening what needed to be tightened. And keeping the forklifts in working shape, they seemed to constantly be breaking down and she had a way with them. She'd wasn't sure he'd remember her, or give much of a reference, but she'd respected him and hoped he was a smart choice. When she got his email that Friday morning, she went with it.

She'd had no way of knowing he was the chief engineer on the White Whale division of Project Exodus. She wasn't even sure that he'd given her much of a reference, but it had certainly been worth its weight in gold. She'd joined the busy facility on the California-Nevada border, under a merciless desert sky that had almost been her undoing later. The Chief had helped her out then too, switching her to night shift and the maintenance sheds. Others had sympathized with her seeming exile. She didn't explain the point. Luckily there were a lot of machines that resembled forklifts, only really majestic ones, in need of oiling and cleaning.

Towards the end of the project, when good people like Gloria were disappearing, there was a last piece of luck that had probably saved her, but she didn't want to think about that, because it felt far less innocent.

"Begin loading sequence," directed the voice. The ship was making sounds like distant bells. Lila didn't hesitate. She found an individual capsule and snugged herself in. The capsule sealed, and her mimeosome automatically began a slow shutdown sequence, a deeper and less voluntary version of regular maintenance sleep. She hoped she'd be okay. She hoped that Gino was okay and wondered how soon she'd see him again. She hoped that Gloria's cousin and Hector (who was just as irritating as her friends had said, as well as frighteningly competent) were okay. She started to hope, very hazily now, that the Chief was okay, when she stopped thinking anything at all.

When she opened her eyes, she was on Mira, and lucky to be alive.

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 **A/n: One of the first pieces I ever typed, whilest Youngest Child howled about math beside me. First I imagined Lila, then I had to make her backstory, then, well, then I ended up with everything else (hello, Gino!).**

 **Please note, this is slightly AU. Game canon has the ECP project fairly public knowledge from the start. By the time I learned this fact, I was a good 8 stories in, so in this universe, the evacuation plans were kept hush hush for as long as possible. I had enough to revise when I hit Ch. 5 and Ch. 12 in the game (plus certain affinity lines), and didn't manage every turn.**

 **I'm slowing down, kids, with any new stories, so I'll be putting up this big block. Right now, it is rated T; I'll warn you when I make the switch. (Hello, Switch! Whoooo! okay, calm now.)**

 **Next up: Hello, Mira! What lovely mud you have. Mind if I examine it?**


	2. Crawl

**Crawl**

 **A/N: Cross wasn't the only one to have trouble getting to NLA, and Lila is no Cross. Grit will get you far, though.**

 **Set pre-game, on arrival on Mira, with heavy spoilers to Ch.5. Pain, not much swears. Lila is not Cross, she's not even close, just a non-canon NPC with a blue speech bubble on skell fuel usage. Everything else belongs to the geniuses of MONOLITHSOFT.**

* * *

Because, on a really bad Monday, what other choice do we have?

Except it isn't a Monday, at least not when I left, thought Lila. She wasn't sure how long she'd been in the pod, and there was no one to ask. No one left that could answer.

She had snugged herself into Emergency Escape Pod WW/11/28c only moments before, by her own consciousness. At the time, she had been on the White Whale, and the last person left in the local evacuation center after WW/11/28b had launched, but clearly things had happened since then. For one thing, she was planetside, probably the planet that had unexpectedly bumped them into orbit. For another, the other personal capsules weren't empty, or least they hadn't been. The pod must have waited for more passengers, arriving in the precious window after the start of the loading sequence and before the start of the launch.

Unfortunately for them, they hadn't survived the trip. Once she'd climbed out, Lila had noticed damage to the outside of the pod, probably beam energy from the enemies that had swarmed the White Whale. Why they'd target something as insignificant as an escape pod, she couldn't say. Maybe it had been fire aimed at the big ship itself. Maybe they really were as petty and murderous as humans feared. Inside, three capsules were blackened, but not empty.

Several of the capsules were missing. The escape pods had an extra safety feature. In case of extreme failure or attack, the capsules could self-launch within the planetary range, scattering about the surface. Perhaps they were safe, somewhere nearby, although in that case they were probably still asleep, since independent capsules couldn't self-revive.

Then why was Lila's capsule still with the main pod? She found her answer, looking down along the side of the wildly tilted pod. Enough damage had been done to it so that not all capsules could eject. Four lucky ones had stayed put because beam damage had fused the clamps on that side. Three had turned unlucky when the lowest side of the pod scraped the ground when it crashed into the planet, dragging a long scar in the earth. Only her capsule, not too burnt, not too scraped, but just right, had survived successfully.

And that was all she learned, for a long while, as she turned her eyes up to a rich blue sky, then across a sweep of improbable mesas and majestic waterfalls. A herd of reptilian wolves wandered past. The air was real, with a gentle wind, and full of sounds that weren't echoes on panels and had no mechanical qualities whatsoever.

Agoraphobia struck her like a rock to the head, and she fell off the pod, crashing to the ground. She crawled as far under the tilting, blackened pod as she could, whimpering. Thought left her, as she tried very very hard not to vomit, not to scream, not to die.

The crevice where pod met ground was muddy, and smelled like burnt insulation. If a smell could be evil, this would be the one. It also smelled of rain and roots, destroyed roots. She felt so sorry for the plants. They hadn't asked to be torn apart like that. She concentrated very hard on feeling sorry for them, and not for herself, and ignored her gasping breath until it wasn't quite so gasping. She was quite cold from the mud by the time that happened, but she was glad that it actually had happened.

From the safety of the crevice, she peeped at the new world. She was prepared this time, though. She didn't look at the cliffs or floating islands … "How? How could they do that? Don't think about that, do not think about that," she schooled herself. More breathing followed this, more focus on mud and roots and calculating the chances that the grass might grow back within a month. She peeped one more time, looking only a scarce meter from the edge of the pod, and very carefully no farther. Grass, innocent of any damage, sat almost within an arm span. Somewhat shaded by the pod, but otherwise unconcerned. The planet was just fine, apparently.

Maybe she could crawl to that clump, because even though she craved the security of the pod, she knew it wasn't safe. Things still crackled inside it, the burning smells were not stopping, and the whole thing was tilting perhaps just a bit more, squeezing down on her. A cozy sensation, in one way, but if it decided to shift, she would be squished. More than squished, she would be dead. It wasn't a far crawl, and the gently waving grass would make a fine welcoming committee to an alien refugee that couldn't stand upright without losing her mind.

More breathing followed. She really wanted to stay in the crevice, but the pod seemed to be growing warmer. This was the final push to start her journey. But not on foot. She could do this, but only if she kept her nose close to the ground. Only crawling on her hands and knees could work, a crouch would not do. At least I'm not reduced to belly crawling, she thought. Yet.

The attempt was a wild success. She made not just the clump, but a sort of bush almost two body lengths beyond it, an assemblage of carnelian branches, covered in knobs that unfolded into slightly flared tubes at the tips. She looked back, very carefully focusing on the lowest, closest stretch, to admire her success, and noticed the black smoke pouring out of the escape pod along with a few dainty orange sparks. No resting, then, she needed to put as much space as she could between herself and the as-yet-unexploded remains of her erstwhile savior. She eyed another clump of grass, directly away from the bush, probably west, guessing from lengthening shadows. "Let's do this," she whispered, closed her eyes and left the safety of the bush.

It hadn't been like this before. Back on … she shuddered to a halt and laid her face full in the dirt, ignoring the prickles and the something poking her nose. She could only handle one trauma at a time, and thinking about Earth wasn't helping. Yet more breathing, until the first worrisome popping sounds from the pod spurred her to renewed crawling.

Back before, this hadn't been a real problem. Sure, she hadn't enjoyed large spaces, with or without crowds, but that was only a mild dislike. A momentary pause to orient herself, a slight maneuver to be closer to a wall, a preference for an inside booth rather than patio life, it all could be dismissed with a sheepish shrug. She'd lived a normal life. She'd cheered herself hoarse at football games (Go Navy!), gotten sunburned on the beach, gone on wobbly bike rides, she'd managed so many things before it was all … (taken away, gone gone gone, lost, destroyed, ruined and stolen, gone gone gone) (stop) And here she was at the clump, this one split into three parts with a small viney herb twisting low between the stems. She saw a small shiny crawling thing, redder than the reddest lady bug, and with a few more legs.

No, you couldn't blame any of this on what was before. The problem had really started when they transferred the crew into the mimeosomes. A good idea, let them test it before the ship went up, back when some people weren't even completely sure it would have to go up. Plus the strength and stamina of the mims contributed to the project being completed almost a year ahead of schedule. It was probably what had saved the ship.

But there had been issues. The first mims were featureless droids, scanners for eyes, internal speakers for voices. She'd seen videos of them, and they were creepy. As it turned out, they were also very hard for humans to control. Without binocular eyes, the mims would spin and swivel, trying to control the field of vision. Without proper mouths, they emitted garbled noises, at best managing a stream of consciousness jumble of words and jibberish. So the designers had reluctantly added eyes and mouth assemblies, and then, because that looked truly creepy on its own, they had added proper faces.

But it was still hard for humans to communicate with these blank faces, so they'd added mobility, lips that could frown, pupils that could dilate, cheeks for blushing, eyebrows to raise, tears. Once you started on this path, there was little point in stopping. Hair. Toes. Flesh generally. Fingerprints (but these they improved, making them truly unique and coded with your service number). Breasts and belly buttons. The designers didn't even enter the exciting argument about genitalia, pro or con, simply applying it as accurately as possible, and moving on to the more fiddly issue of necks and just how far they should be able to turn and bend.

The final result was a series of mimeosomes that could be individualized, in very small and easy ways. The process took 30 minutes at most, if you took it slow. Very effective, but in reality, the change was only on the outside. You saw a group of individuals, but the base forms were still fairly standard, within a limited range of heights and weights. Maybe a little more muscle here or slightly more gracile limbs there, but for the most part, they were interchangeable. A brilliant advantage for the ship, where the infrastructure could now be standardized. Same suits, same chairs, same beds, everything fit so much better.

Except for the stubborn problem that a large number of humans simply could not synch successfully with the standard model mims. About 10% of the crew were at a loss when put in a body that deviated too much from their original size and shape. The number was probably higher, masked by the fact that the standard range matched so many people to start with. Many, but not all. The Chief Engineer was a choice example. Put him in a standard body and he spun like a loose puppet, unable to stop his limbs from flailing and body from turning. Hilarious, unless you believed his growled death threats directed at the mimeosome development team in general and that fool laughing in the corner in particular. They'd had to make him a custom mim frame, with shoulders like _this_ and fists like _that_. (And the mim team had wisely kept the technician with the unfortunate tendency to giggle far far away from the ultimately successful synch, lest the Chief carry out his promise to pound him so hard his grandson would feel it.)

After that, any trouble with synchronization signaled a need to build a custom mim. It really wasn't much of a bother. The process was fairly simple, by the end the mimeosome team had it automated and it only took a few extra days before the resynching could occur. Lila hadn't worried when her tall, slender, perfectly standard mim had crashed to the wildly tilting floor at the first fitting. The Chief had been fine, Louisa in fuel optimization had been fine, and so would she. Sure, she'd kind of looked forward to not being so very short. She'd made the military height requirement without having to stretch, but she definitely couldn't slouch. It might have been nice to look the Chief in the eyes, or closer to it. But no, not a chance. Still, short was good, solid was good, she was built for distance, not for speed.

Definitely not speed. She'd made it to a rock by this time, actually the crumbling debris from a cliff. Uphill, no less. The rock seemed deeply serious and was a silvery grey color, too fine for sedimentary rock, but fracturing in a way that didn't match metamorphic rock. Something to ponder, later. Lila crawled to the far side of it to rest in the late afternoon sunshine. She didn't sit up, let's not be crazy, but she managed a relaxed curled position, not quite fetal but evocative of it. This was exactly where she needed to be as the escape pod, now a fair length behind her, started to fragment in a series of smallish explosions. She cowered, much less relaxed, for several minutes, even though no debris quite reached her. She heard animals make protesting noises in the near distance, but she didn't look up. Snuggling with the dirt, grass, and this experienced rock seemed a far healthier personal choice.

She had no idea where she should go, what she should do. No amount of crawling or cowering or considering geology could really distract from the utter terror ripping her insides. She'd started west when she'd left the pod, was it hours ago? Something seemed to pull her in that direction. She'd made use of this kind of weird intuition before, back on … during the project, and decided that perhaps the root cause was still in effect. The bluff that had generated the kindly rock lay to the west and would make a good target even when the sunset had finished. She wasn't properly crawling anymore, managing only a sort of dragging scrape along the dirt and grass, with a lot of whimpering and even some stifled moans. But she'd make the bluff or die. "Possibly both," she whispered, and then choked on the strangeness of her voice.

The resynchronization had worked perfectly. They'd even risked an extra two cm of height, with no ill effects. She'd walked the line, completed the reaction tests, read the eye charts and followed the bouncing ball, all no problem. Congratulations all around, but very quickly, next please! She'd trotted down the hall and out the exit door.

By the unseen heavens, did she really need to remember that first hit of agoraphobia at this exact minute? Did she really need to top her reaction to whatever this planet was doing to her with another one, on a planet long distant and so long gone (lost lost lo.. stop right now)?

She laid her head in the alien mud and wept, hopelessly. Far above her, the sky took on all the colors of a super deluxe Hawaiian shave ice, with gently crooning floaty glowy sky whales passing by. But Lila was far away, remembering the moment she had exited the mimeosome synchronization unit. All those years ago and distances away, she had walked out of a now destroyed building, onto a now destroyed desert playa, under a now destroyed sky, and completely been unhinged. Things had billowed and swayed and both rushed at her and torn themselves away. The hot air had growled somehow, and she had been unable to breathe or move. She'd felt her way along the wall, blinded, and made it to the barracks. Rest, food, a good night's sleep, clearly that was what she'd needed.

It hadn't helped. The sensations had ended the instant she made the inside, but the next morning, she crossed the doorway into terror again. For three days, she lurched about her job, finding it increasingly difficult to go out into the wild carnivorous storm. Impossible under the best of circumstances, but since her job required fine tuning the experimental solar array several times a day, it was more than impossible. It was deadly.

Just as deadly to report to the mimeosome team. Already, good people were disappearing, replaced by unreliable strangers with lesser skills and questionable bone fides. One teammate had gone down with the stomach flu, right after his scheduled synchronization. Lila had never seen Manny again. Five days later, his job was filled by a bored and icy blonde. The stranger had casually handed her toolkit to a series of boyfriends, men who had done wildly unreliable work, while she herself at best watched with enormous violet eyes; just as often, she'd evaporated for her own purposes. No one could figure out why she had replaced Manny. But clearly, mims couldn't get flu. Lila had asked around, just casually, and found out that the mimeosome team had diagnosed Manny with mim related motion sickness, rare and sadly something they couldn't fix. Grounds for removal from the project. After that, Lila had tried not to hate the blonde, a wasted effort, but necessary for Lila's own peace of mind. She could hate only so many things at one time.

She'd made the bluff by now, night cooling rapidly. Crickets chirruped, except they couldn't be crickets. She had no idea what they might be like. The angry buzzing was definitely not mosquitoes. Luckily, the sidearm that was part of the pod emergency pack she'd grabbed was amazingly effective, considering how she had fired wildly while crumpled on the ground, face buried in the crook of her arm. An insect the size of a duck, with a stinger the length of her hand, crashed down beside her. By the end of the second day, she was over and around the bluff, and moving west one grass tuft at a time. Maybe a few minutes hike under normal conditions. Still, this was effective, this might work. She could only hope it was the right thing to do.

When she felt too terrified even to move, which usually happened when she was most exposed, she simply gave up for a while. She let her mind completely loose, sacrificing most of it to the terror that surrounded her. But one small part she focused on the dirt or grass nearest her. Sometimes there were even flowers, she lived for when there were flowers. She could look at those, a centimeter from her face, and try to think very hard about their existence. Were they white to attract insects? Or to reflect light? Or just because that was a side effect of some other biological need? Even without flowers, she could imagine what existence for mud was like, the skin of this new planet, maybe her new home, stretching she didn't yet know how far. It helped her return to herself after some minutes, or maybe hours, of helplessness. And the next grass tuft promised another chance to focus.

Back when she'd first been synchronized, her only hope had been to mask her symptoms, and after three days blundering around the desert facility, her luck had run out. Or maybe her body couldn't do it. The Chief had found her shaking and blank faced, plastered to an electrical switching box next to the panel array. He'd frog marched her back to his office, hand clamped tight to her arm, probably holding the whole of her weight as they moved, and dumped her into a chair in the tiny office he almost never used.

"Explain what's happening, Petty Officer Brown."

The military rank, while obsolete for the project, brought Lila back to a safer environment. She'd felt a moment of gratitude he'd remembered her final rank; she'd only made Seaman when she'd first worked for him years back. Her eyes regained their focus, and she was proud she'd only needed to cough twice before speaking. "I'm having some problems with my synchronization, sir."

"Motion sickness?"

She hesitated. "No, Chief, not exactly. More of a trouble with perceiving distances."

"You're still no good at lying, Brown. I've seen you play poker. Terrible."

She hated poker. "It only happens outside, sir."

"You can't do your job. Hell, you can't do any job. We're going to have to replace you."

"Respectfully, sir, the synchronization works fine indoors. And it's only been three days…"

She knew what it meant to be replaced. So did the Chief. He was right, but she really didn't want to be left behind. Others pretended this was a just-in-case project, but the people she respected weren't treating it that way.

The Chief frowned and kept silent. Lila steeled herself for his decision. She knew what it had to be; she would take it and not argue.

"Is it worse during the daytime or night?"

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Day or night? Is it worse?" he growled impatiently.

Lila had to pause to consider, even if it made him angrier. Stammering and umming was far worse. "Daytime, sir. It's harder during the day. Something about the heat and light."

She knew at once that she'd said the right thing. The Chief's smile returned, and he whistled in relief. "Come on, Petty Officer." She'd trotted after him, only to balk at the exit.

"Come on." He'd grabbed her wrist, hard. And off they went, Lila so close on his heels that she crashed into him when they reached the skell maintenance hangar. It was like crashing into a largish tree.

"Sorry, sir."

"Get in and tell them I've sent them somebody for the night shift."

Turned out, the skell repair team had been whining about needing more hands, especially overnight, doing the grunt maintenance work. Oil changes, refueling, scrubbing the treads, brainless ugly stuff. Alexa, the auburn head of the department, explained it all cheerfully. "It's a waste for anyone on the project, of course. Somebody's got to do it but nobody wants to. You don't get to ride 'em or improve 'em, just make them all pretty for the real crew. What's the fun of that?"

She looked speculatively at Lila. "Sooo, what exactly did you do to get the Chief so mad at you? Because this is NOT a reward, I promise you that."

Lila had said something completely unconvincing about wanting to help out any way she could.

"Probably got pushed into doing it by dear sweet Nagi. God, I love that man almost as much as I love me some skells." The woman gave a happy sigh before asking sharply, "You don't happen to owe the Chief money, do you?"

"I'm terrible at poker, apparently," Lila replied, and the matter was settled.

The switch worked, or at least well enough to keep her on the project. She'd made each and every skell a thing of beauty, zealously changing and dusting, refueling with an accuracy usually found only in the manual. She'd also cleared up the endless whirl of paperwork, earning the casual thanks of Alexa.

By the second week, Lila had come to terms with the problems her mimeosome was causing. There were tricks for crossing the campus when the outside was a world of poison, acid and knives. Racing along walls took more time but could keep her from buckling. Darting though buildings drew suspicion until she took on the task of refilling vending machines along the way. (There was some reasonable complaint that this was a waste of valuable resources. Mims didn't need to eat the same way humans did. But no one could deny the universal law that, mim or human, if you were working insane overtime, snacks were essential.) She'd worn a welder's helmet for two days before the ridiculous nature of it made her reluctantly abandon that plan. Pride wasn't stronger than terror, but it couldn't be ignored either.

The true solution came from the nature of the mimeosome itself. Lila found that, if she was very clear in where she wanted to go and if she launched herself fairly quickly toward it (i.e. at a flat out run), the mim automatically went to the destination. Lila could zone out and leave it to swerve, turn, even jump. Internally she could be a jibbering wreck of pain and fear. Externally, her body would arrive at the end point without her help. She couldn't return greetings, problematic, but she could get to where she needed to go. She couldn't risk driving, but for short distance travel it worked perfectly. At the end of the month, she reported to the Chief that she was contributing completely to the project, and he had given a noncommittal grunt. Nothing more about replacement was said.

The mimeosomes had a certain homing censor, which helped their owners orient themselves in varying gravities or electrical fields. Or when blindly running across a parking lot. Lila hoped that this censor was leading her towards the White Whale, or whatever was left of it.

Eleven days later, plastered with mud and purple dung, knees worn clean of any artificial skin, and with an encyclopedic knowledge of the grass species and lesser insects of the planet she would learn was called Mira, Lila made the Eastern Gate of New Los Angeles.

* * *

 **a/N: Written on a really bad Monday, clearly, as I sat like Patience whilest Youngest Child howled about history homework (elementary school has much to answer for). Probably the third piece I ever started, and the one that made me think, yup, this is now a thing, I'm doomed. Also, do you get that I love Primordia almost as much as I love Oblivia?**

 **Next up: Safe and sound in New Los Angeles. And who is that hunk with the perfect powder blue eye shadow? Lara? Baby Doll! Mediators FTW!**


	3. Good News from Nara

**Good News from Nara**

 **A/N: Lara Nara is busy rescuing nooby damsels in distress. Really, it is a waste of his talents, but sometimes the fallout gets interesting.**

 **Set pre-game, post arrival. Spoilers to chapter 2/5. Slight swears at loud volume.**

 **All the good stuff belongs to MONOLITH SOFT. Congratulations about XCX being nominated for the MTV Games Awards, kids, because you are awesome. Lila is mine. Don't worry, she cleans up okay.**

* * *

Lara Nara liked to keep a list of every kind of reaction a person could have, once they had lost their cool. It helped him decide how to respond. After scraping someone up from the lowest point of their life, he'd watch to see how they chose to bounce back. He was watching this woman now, waiting to see which way she'd shift.

He was guessing she'd be the Flower of Denial. A slight laugh, a shake of the head, oh how silly I must have missed breakfast, that's why I was a shuddering wreck a few minutes ago. Possibly the Glutton for Puns, cracking jokes that weren't even close to funny in a voice that wandered across all octaves. Definitely not the Swing and a Miss, which featured cursing that burned even his experienced ears and a tendency to start a fight.

"This is the Habitat Unit, correct?"

Ah, the Just the Facts Ma'am. Tricky. Those types tended to crash the minute you let them loose, but you'd never know from their eyes or their voice. Flat even odds between them fixing themselves after a few days, alone and in excruciating agony, or becoming a completely broken mim by morning. Depended on what they hung on to. It was best to answer their questions, cheerfully and promptly and ALWAYS with a slant towards the most positive, most hopeful information. Then find them a familiar face, and fast, anyone that could keep an eye on them. That tended to boost the odds more than somewhat.

"Yes, dear, already set up as our colony. New Los Angeles. Like the name? I'm spending my spare time admiring the California hotties around town." Couldn't get a more positive slant than that, he thought.

She managed the slightest smile. Good girl, already trying to reach normal, even though she still looked like all she could taste was acid. "That's good news. I'm glad the impact gel worked right." She fell silent, eyes closed, nodding her head slightly as if agreeing to an argument.

Ah, probably part of the engineering team, thought Nara. Too small and beat up to be military, that's for sure. She looked all wrong in even the plainest BLADE wear that the Mim Center kids issued newly found colonists. Except for her posture. When he'd found her, leaning against the front of BLADE tower and shaking like a maraca, just as that gorgeous green-eyed boy had warned him, she was still standing almost straight, and she'd repeatedly pulled herself up from an almost crouching gait as he steered her towards the Mediators' bay. Either she was very proud of her spine, or somebody had taught her parade stance but good.

She was almost sitting straight right now, although her hands clutched each other like love-struck squid and she couldn't keep her eyes open and focused for 60 seconds straight. But she kept on trying. Oh, this one was going to kill herself trying to get over whatever had happened to her.

"Sweetheart, we need to get you back to the Mimeosome Center."

"No!" Mercy if she didn't sit up perfectly then, take a deep breath, open her eyes and look him as if nothing were the matter. "They seem to have enough trouble. As long as I'm inside, my agoraphobia settles down okay. If I could have some water?"

He shrugged. Agoraphobia, my fanny, he thought. Something wicked had happened to her and left her gutted. He'd get her some water, and then trot her over to the center. No rush to start a fight. Alas, he was going to be late for lunch with his brother. As he stepped away, he shot him a message.

" _got a new case have some fries for me"_

His brother must have been waiting, because the response was instant. _"greasy things. Handsome?"_

" _small and beat up"_

" _culprit?"_

" _Mira"_

" _baby blade?"_

" _fob. engineer maybe"_

There was a necessary pause as Nara got a tumbler of water. He was surprised by the string of messages that had piled up in that scant minute. _"small like short? weird hair? name?!" "never mind tell the commander" "nara ping him now!" "and stick around!" "and tell me everything!"_

Nara did as his brother suggested, then pushed the device away before returning to his charge. She was still sitting bolt upright, but her eyes were closed and she seemed to be spending every ounce of energy on breathing in and out calmly. She didn't notice him until he spoke, but to her credit, she didn't startle either. "Here's some water. After this, we'll just go see the mim kids down the block."

"Thank you." She accepted the tumbler with both hands. They were shaking so much, she was having trouble getting it to her mouth.

"Like me to hold that?" he asked softly.

"No bother. Give me a moment." She looked at him and shook her head. A confused look flashed in her eyes. "You look … different. Weren't your eyes blue?"

Nara laughed. "Oh, you must be thinking of someone else."

She looked blank. He smiled, and then his smile disappeared as she said, "Huh. He never mentioned a brother. Guess you're the cute one." Well, score one for her team. Almost no one figured it out that quickly. "Is he … did he survive?" she asked hesitantly.

Nara's smile returned, warm and gentle. "Yes, dear. He's fine. Would you like me to call him?"

"No, no. It's just … good news. Second piece of good news. Third, if you can count Hector." She took a deep breath and tried to sip the water again, with better luck.

"Anyone else you'd like me to contact?"

She gave a small pause, then said, steadily, "No, no one right now. What's the procedure for reintegrating noobs like me?"

"Let's not worry about that. If you were any fighting shape, we'd let the Commander decide first if you would be useful for BLADE or better off as a civilian."

"BLADE. That's new."

"Stands for … well, something long and not helpful. Simple description, eight divisions, doing the jobs that need doing. Not exactly military, but it has its moments. Every day, most of the kids go out and beat the planet into submission. Except for yours truly and company. We're the Mediators. Our division just keeps all of the inside of New Los Angeles safe, is all. Breaking up bar fights and rescuing kittens from trees, that sort of thing. All the while looking our very best."

"If you do say so yourself." She took another sip and looked away. "Did the Captain make it?" she asked, quietly.

"Nagi? Bless you, girl, he's our new Secretary of Defense. Good enough news for you?"

"We need one?"

"Yes." He shrugged. "We still don't know what attacked us, and, well, …" He hesitated before giving her the most honest yet mild version. "There are signs we're sharing this planet, and we don't know if they're friendly or not."

"Some of the critters are definitely not." She puffed out a breath. He waited for her to start shaking again, but she didn't.

"So you met some of our indigen neighbors when they rescued you?"

"Indi-what neighbors? And no one rescued me. I came in on my own. Slowly, but I got here."

"Good for you. Indigen. Short for indigenous. They're too big to be called critters, and we aren't sure which are animals, and monster, well, that's just a little too hysterical to be used all the time."

"Fair enough." She'd drunk almost the whole tumbler, and only spilled a fraction. "So we've got the Captain as Defense Secretary, and some new Commander. Of this BLADE thingy."

"Say it proud, and you won't start any fights, dear."

"Of BLADE. Sorry. Anything else?"

"Well, the civilian wing of government is being run by our ever popular executive, Maurice…"

"…Chausson. That figures." She sounded like she couldn't decide whether to be pleased or not. Nothing too surprising about that. Most inhabitants of New Los Angeles weren't sure either. "Nagi and Chausson, that'll work, I guess."

"And the Commander. Our own little triumvirate. Nagi's very virate." He leered slightly, but she didn't seem to care.

"Sure." She was scanning the Mediator's camp, taking in the passing skells and people.

Nara looked at her. Her breathing was steady, and her color was less grey and more chalk, possibly a good thing. He patted her hand, noting her temperature, again good. He wasn't going to let her wander loose, but maybe the trip to the Mim Center could be quick. He'd get her situated, and get his brother to check in on her. He wondered how they'd met.

"Hey, did anyone make it from Sak…" she started to ask, before snapping her mouth closed and jumping to her feet. Nara stood up too, a hand on her elbow, because she was starting to shake again, and hard.

"Brown, what the hell is wrong with you?! You were supposed to stay put!" bellowed Commander Vandham. Nara hadn't heard the big man marching into the Mediator's camp, a wonder with those size I-really-can't-say-but-I'd-love-to-imagine boots of his. His charge was staring at the Commander but otherwise not moving, aside from the shakes. Vandham was continuing to shout. "I get word you evaporate from the Center and show up here. You gotta stop pulling this disappearing crap."

"Sir. I …" Ms. Brown, if that was her name, had her hands over her face, and was swaying a little now, on top of the shakes. Oh dear, thought Nara. Here goes. Lovely bedside manner you have there, Commander.

"You what? You got anything for me, Brown?"

To Nara's surprise, when the woman dropped her hands, she wasn't weeping or hysterical. The shakes stopped completely, although the swaying wasn't quite gone. "I think I'm going to have to kill Hector, sir. He told me… he let me think …" She gave her head a quick shake. "Doesn't matter. Good to see you looking well, sir."

"And you look like … "

Nara stepped in. "Now, now, personal comments are so difficult to manage sometimes. Do you need something, Commander?"

Vandham looked at Nara. "Yeah. I need an extra 5 hours every day, and an extra day each week." He turned back to Brown. "I need my team not to go goddamned AWOL out of the center. Hear me, Brown?"

"They cut me loose, sir. Said I was good to go."

"And you pretended to believe them? I know you're part squirrel, but are you really that stupid?"

"I suspect resources are thin for everyone right now."

"Shut it. A lecture I do not need. Center. Now. Nara, you make sure it happens. Once you can stand like a normal human being, then you can scurry around." With that, the Commander turned on his heel and stomped off.

Well, well, well. Nara was already looking forward to a long debriefing session with his brother. But first, it was time to get Ms. Brown squared away. "So, my dear, let's do what the Commander asks. Best for all involved. Certainly, my eardrums can't take that sort of discussion again."

She didn't protest as he guided her down the administrative district. Still chalky pale and wobbly, she shot a quick glance at him with eyes sharp and clear. "Nagi and Chausson and the Chief. I think we have a chance. That's good news."

"Very good news," he agreed with her, with absolute honesty. "Come along."

* * *

 **A/N: fob: fresh off the boat, mean slang for a new immigrant (at least when and where I was growing up,).**

 **Nara, almost as fun as his brother to write. I did this first from Lila's viewpoint, but that was just too depressing (and misleading, because she's a survivor under the worst conditions, down but rarely out). And H.B., honestly, what a brat, I didn't include that, but you can bet he knew exactly what he was doing, letting Lila believe the worst. Something along the lines of "no more engineering, no more Chief, you're on your own, you pathetic creature" – not exactly false, if you parse it carefully. Like I said, brrrrrrat … except then he made sure that Nara found her and quickly. Weird concern, and generous, because we all know he hates the Lara twins. And we're back to: what a brat.**

 **Next up: A short musing on coffee, sleep aides, and what was lost with the destruction of the Whale. AKA indulgent fluff.**


	4. Sleeping Beauty

**A/N: Lila has gotten settled, even started a small business in NLA. It's a busy, tiring time for everyone in that city.**

 **Pure short fluff, some swears. Set in New LA, just pre-game, possible minor spoilers to Ch. 5.**

 **Lila is not Cross, she's not even close, just a NPC with a blue speech bubble with useful info on skell fuel usage. Neither she nor her station nor crew are canon. Everything else belongs to the geniuses of MONOLITH SOFT.**

 **^_^ Happy 1 year anniversary for Europe (already) and North America (an hour to go, less in Newfoundland) and Australia (tomorrow, but that's really soon). ^_^**

* * *

"Auxiliary Skell Refueling Station 1, Lila speaking." She turned her back to the repair area, concentrating to hear over the noise.

"Where is he?"

"The Commander? He's sitting in my office. Said he needed to check something."

"He's alone?" Eleonora's voice dripped disapproval, in the nicest way possible.

"Yes," said Lila slowly, not quite certain what was wrong.

The tiny image of Eleonora rolled her eyes, which surprised Lila. Even when things were going badly, she'd never seen the polished blonde behave with anything less than politeness. "He's not answering his comm device. I assumed, well, never mind what I assumed, I need to talk to him."

"Oh! I'll go check."

"And you're really not with him?"

"No, like I said, he's inside the office."

"Honestly, that man."

"Well, I had to finish beating some sense into a customer."

"And he didn't at least offer to help? Go. Get him. Now." And Eleonora hung up.

Lila trotted over to the office, a little worried. It wasn't like the Chief, correction, the Commander to ignore his duties. Probably just really involved in his research, whatever it was. She hoped the issue wasn't causing him too much trouble.

She stepped into her office, her eyes taking a few seconds to adjust. "Chief?" she said. No, once again, she'd slipped into the old habit. Really, when would she remember that they were no longer on the Whale, that he was no longer the Chief Engineer?

He was sitting motionless on her battered couch, arms stretched wide, head tipped back. His comm device had dropped to the floor. Lila was shocked. No, oh no, please don't let him be ill, she thought. Then she heard a not in the least bit gentle snore. She almost giggled at her moment of panic. He was dead to the world, asleep like a sprawling giant.

Lila smiled over at her former boss, although she really didn't have any right to. She'd noticed that he'd looked so very tired this morning when he came by for the weekly invoicing and complementary coffee. His eyes were still shadowed under his fair eyebrows, but his face had a little more color now. Not enough, though. Lila was an expert on being too pale, practically living the life of a burrow dwelling animal for nearly 3 years now. She had been happy in the sheds, and the ship, and now the station, where the raging furies of her agoraphobia wouldn't get her. But Vandham shouldn't have to do that; he should at least get a chance to enjoy some fresh air. Could she maybe switch their meetings to Barista Court? She owed him that at least.

A wave of tiredness hit her, and she was surprised at how she longed to settle in next to him. She wondered what would happen if she did. Probably he'd snap awake and launch her outside, or launch himself outside, depending on how startled he was. But she was utterly convinced that if she could manage it, she would finally be able to sleep. Just sharing the same couch would be enough.

She hadn't slept well on Mira, and it was getting steadily worse. Wednesday's all-nighters had morphed into late night sessions all week long. She'd been forced to take drastic measures, going completely old school on the issue. It hadn't been easy to procure, being a custom job, and it had sucked up a surprising number of credits, but there it was, beside the couch: a hardback copy of A Tour of the Calculus. A few pages of that solved the problem, if only for one or two hours. Trouble was, she was already 80% done with it, and she didn't know what she'd use next.

It wasn't anything to do with the synchronization. After all, she'd slept fine on the ship (ha, a complete lie, but one she could pretend was true). Along with tiredness, Lila suddenly felt an intense homesickness for the great ship. She'd loved it, loved every centimeter of it. Not the Habitat Unit, the area that now made up New L.A, that she had avoided. The false sky, the false society had done nothing for her. Worse yet, it had been full of dangers as people took their frustrations out on each other. No, she'd loved the endless corridors of the main ship, the stairways and service shafts. She'd taken to popping into various labs, on the excuse of asking if they needed anything from engineering. The real reason was curiosity, and the need for reassurance that everyone was still working, had not given up. She knew all the maintenance closets, and better yet, she'd memorized the schedules for their use. Always a good place to crash, curled up in a corner of an idle closet, head resting on a bundle of fairly clean rags. She almost never went to her proper bunk after the first few months, all part of her goal of spending the minimal amount of time in the Habitat Unit. She'd even loved the huge engine rooms, even though they triggered killer dizziness. Somehow she could almost ignore it there, because they were full of sound and lights and co-workers and something else. She wasn't sure she could explain it, but maybe she'd say they were full of information. Or hope.

She'd walked the length of the ship one weekend, managing to go from the nose to tail or as close to it as possible (she hadn't risked getting too close to the bridge). She'd planned to do it again, but never gotten around to it. More often, she'd played a sort of ongoing hide and seek game around the Lifehold. That area and the bridge, those were the only places with real security. She'd tried to see how close she could get to it, finding inventive ways of approaching it. Side corridors. The space between ceilings and floors. She'd wriggled in some weird locations. One ventilation shaft had looked really promising. She'd returned several times, until suddenly there were guards at a key entrance. She hadn't given up, but the next week there had been a flurry of motion sensors. A week later, the motion sensors had been upgraded. That had been that. When she'd talked to…, well, anyway, she'd promised she was done with that game. But she'd still gone back when she was bored, and even succeeded. Once. Eventually, she'd reported that too.

Looking at the Chief, no, really now, pay attention, the Commander, asleep as he was, she felt some of that same safety and comfort that the White Whale had provided. She'd had a proper purpose back then, a proper rank. Now, she was just a grotty little tech, running a not-completely authorized business that served the lazier, more impatient and just plain more incompetent BLADEs. You could always get your skell refueled and serviced for free in the official hangar, just a few steps away. You might have to wait, and you might well have to explain embarrassing situations, such as lack of planning or unnecessary damage, but it was free. Pilots that preferred not to face up to their miscalculations turned to Lila, and she felt their shame rub off on her.

She really really wanted to snuggle next to him, absolutely unacceptable of course. She'd accept sitting at the far end of the couch, with her fingers just resting against his arm. But pride made her shake her head, changing her decision. It was her couch, after all, and she should be allowed to sit where she liked. And if some guest wanted to take up such a massive amount of it, he had better well share it and not complain. Snuggling it was, then. She smiled, and settled for tapping his boot with the tip of her own safety shoe, the gentlest (and safest) way she could think to wake him up.

"Sir, someone's been trying to reach you."

He lifted his head and blinked at her. "And they goddamned sent you to find me. Hell, Lila, it was just getting to the good part."

"What good part?"

He scowled at her. She was glad to see that his face was looking almost rosy. The sleep, no matter how short, must have done him some good. "None of your business." He sighed, reached for his comm device and swiped it open, then scowled again. "Jesus, Eleonora, leave enough messages, why don't you."

He surged to his feet. "I guess I'll take a rain check on the coffee. Tastes disgusting anyway. I hope you don't expect to win any prizes because I can't tell the coffee from the fuel some days."

"I was thinking, sir, maybe next time I can give you my report at Barista Court."

He looked surprised, but didn't argue. "Fine. I hit it at about 0600 most days. I'll see you next Thursday."

"It's a date, sir."

He stopped to look thoughtfully at her, before shaking his head and moving on. Lila was already calculating just how many meters of open space she'd need to cross to get to the coffee stand.

* * *

 **A/n: Thus answering some of the open questions from Twitchy Tales of the Whale/3/Broken. Because that's what freaked poor Lila out one long weekend and almost killed her. Also, no, she didn't behave and stop sleeping in closets just because someone told her to in TTotW/2/Doors; she just didn't let herself get caught.**

 **Next up: NLA Noir, full of crime, dames, goons, and Mediators. Also, way too much geeking out about slightly incorrect skell head canon, suffer it, kids. It's worth it, because there is also Alexa, Mara, and a soupcon of Doug.**

 **...**

 **(No I did not mean "soup can of Doug", I just can't get the right type for that c/cedilla. What would that mean anyway? Now I'm never getting that idea out of my head. Campbell's Cream of Dougie Soup. Shoot me now. )**

 **...**

 **((I suppose I could have written "whiff of Doug" but now I'm thinking of Doug-based cologne. Eau de Doug. Sniff, sniff. Smells like skell. Shoot. Me. Now.))**


	5. Some Jobs, or NLA Noir

**Some Jobs, or NLA Noir**

 **A/N: Don't you love a good police procedural? Lila's in trouble and she swears it wasn't her fault. Which might even be true.**

 **Just barely pre-game, spoilers to Ch. 5. Very strong language (I tried censoring it, it sounded gosh darn silly), violence, extreme skell geekery (even before Alexa shows up), and closing fluff.**

 **Everything wonderful belongs to the geniuses of MONOLITH SOFT. Which excludes Lila the OC, her station and crew, and Aeolian Industries. Lara Mara completely took over the dialogue at times, and I was glad to let him.**

* * *

Some jobs you just can't get to liking.

Anything involving the Mediators set Vandham on edge. Not the BLADES themselves, he actually liked them more than a lot of other groups. Made sense. What with Mediators needing to find solutions to people problems, they tended to understand you, get along with you, be honest with you. Some BLADES called them soft, since they weren't on the front lines where the action was, busy taking down multi-toothed dilus or those crazy stacks of honk-hoo birds. He disagreed. He found Mediators usually to be beyond notions of bravery or cowardice, focused so strongly on helping their fellow humans that at times they had no consideration for their own status or safety.

The problem was that he hated the notion that humans were working against the main purpose of New Los Angeles: the very survival of the human race. Not just hated, could barely comprehend. Left him spitless with rage, and he couldn't even work up a proper rage because he just could not believe it. Screwing up, cockiness, stupidity, he could see all that getting in the way of a job, and he was very happy to dress down any BLADEs he found lacking. And by dressing down, that meant leaving them smarting a bit and not just metaphorically. But doing something you knew would make it harder for humanity to survive? That simply did not compute.

Plus, his sarcastic personality suited these jobs about as well as babies worked as battering rams. Such a very bad idea, it should make anyone shudder.

This time, it was worse. Which was why he made sure he was there. Something was wrong and he wasn't going to look away.

"I hate to mess up your dates with your little coffee buddy," said Lara Mara, interrupting his angry thoughts. If a 100 kilo, heavily armored BLADE could chirp, Lara Mara had done just that.

"What dates?" growled Vandham.

"The ones where you bill and coo with Lila, so totally adorable. Even if she is a scrawny little thing. Me, I prefer more meat on my men. Much more meat." Lara Mara shot an exaggerated vamping look at the commander.

Vandham shook his head. God dammit, the man was trying to distract him and it had worked. Probably trying to keep him from starting the whole thing by going directly to ballistic. He had to appreciate that. "They're not dates, they're invoice reviews, and this whole mess has good and blown them," he said, slightly more calmly.

"Mmm hmmm. Love the image."

The pair strode into Auxillary Skell Refueling Station 1, increasing the testosterone in the area by about 3000%. Lila's station was busy, cables snaking around the ground, tools buzzing, the male team members singing various lyrics of a particularly crude version of "What a Pathfinder Can Do [To Himself]." He swore Gino and Ricky must work hard to sound that stupid. Lila herself noticed them at once.

"Mara, Commander. What brings the pair of you to my humble establishment? Going to start patrolling in skells?" Her voice dripped with suspicion.

Clearly, the niceties were already over. "Hi ya, Lila. We've got a problem and we're going to need to shut the station down." Lara Mara wasn't wasting time either.

"Okay," Lila replied, slowly. "Why send a Mediator to tell me? I'm guessing this isn't anything to do with a redevelopment project, maybe?"

"Sorry, darling, but no. There've been complaints about fuel theft. Lots of them. Skells not being fully ready to go out on missions."

"Teams have been stranded. With casualties," growled Vandham. He was starting to get angry again.

Lila's face turned hard, her chin pushed out. "Right. That's just wrong, and we don't have anything to do with it."

"They fueled up here," shot back Vandham.

"We didn't do anything wrong," she snapped, emphasizing every word.

Lara Mara stepped in, reluctantly. Good drama was so rare, but alas the job took precedence. "So be a good girl and shut it down."

"Today?"

"Now."

Lila hissed a breath in, then out. She whipped around and stepped quickly over to the oldest member of her team, a wiry man of about 30. "Gino, what's the status of the third bay?"

"Just about to start it, but I need to get the right mix of hydraulics, fucking light frame skells, they never…"

"Well, don't bother. Close it back up, make sure the bolts are on tight, put a note in the seat and leave it. Is the first one done?"

Gino's face was angry, and worried. He could sound dumb, but he wasn't anything close to it. "Lemme see. Ricky Bobby!"

The larger tech, built like a stevedore, wandered over to the other two. He would have been intimidating, except he radiated a sort of softness. Like a gigantic freckled bunny. "Sure, um, okay, what's up, guys?"

Gino was speaking calmly, but Vandham could see it was taking some effort. "So, Ricky my man, have you finished refueling Bay One?"

"Um, yeah, no, I don't think so. I didn't hear that little bell go off, so no, not yet."

Gino was rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes scrunched. "How many times do I got to tell you, that bell don't mean shit. It just means we got to switch the rates."

Lila sighed. "Anyway, it means the thing isn't even halfway, so we're going to have leave a note on that one too. Ricky Bobby, can you go shut off the linkage? Then go pull the connections. If you have a question, come and ask, okay?"

"Okay. But the bell hasn't rung, so I don't think we should."

"Let's just try it this way. Just for today."

The tech trotted back towards the first skell. Lila yelled, "Shut down the linkage first!" Ricky Bobby swerved sharply towards the back of the station.

"Number two is almost done, 10 minutes maybe," Gino said quietly.

"We'll shut it down last. I'll keep an eye on Ricky. Go."

"I could get the third job done in 20 minutes."

"No. The station's shut down. We're accused of stealing fuel."

"What the hell?"

"We're just going to prevent explosions and then it's closed.'

"How long?"

"Don't know. I could ask Lara Mara here," Lila waved at the pair of men behind her. Oh, so she hadn't forgotten their presence, thought Vandham. Gino sent them a hate-filled glance, then shot towards the skell at the farthest end.

"So glad it isn't Wednesday," said Lila, eyes on Ricky Bobby as he methodically detached cables from the first skell, sarcasm thick on her tongue. "That's usually our crunch day."

"Not an accident, sweetie. We didn't want to crimp anyone else's style," Lara Mara replied. "Oh, and I'll be needing your comm device."

"What?!"

"It's your business device, right?"

Lila turned to him and shoved the comm towards him. "Take the stupid thing. Now explain to me how I'm going to get anything done."

"You're shut down, Lila. I hate to say it, but we don't WANT you to get anything done."

Lila looked away, and for the first time she looked a little scared. Her voice had just a tiny tremble to it. "Any idea when we can reopen?"

"It'll depend on the findings. But, Lila, I don't think it's going to happen soon."

The station was shut before 15 minutes had passed. Lara Mara had agreed to bring over a Mediator to explain to customers a version of what had happened. More likely, they'd be there to keep anyone from tampering with evidence. As various tools and equipment powered down, the area had become strangely silent. Finally, it was just the three station workers looking at Lara and Vandham.

"Thank you for your cooperation, kids. It really will make things better in the end."

"This is complete bullshit!" exploded Gino. His whole body was trembling with rage, fists bunched.

"Um, Gino, buddy, don't worry, we can fix it," muttered Ricky Bobby. Gino looked like he was going to round on the bigger man.

"Shh, shh, guys, it'll be okay," said Lila. "We're good, we're clean, the Mediators aren't stupid, much, we'll be back in business by Monday at the latest. Salaries are covered until next month, that's a lock."

"I don't give a fuck about salaries!"

"Um, I need to pay for my car, Gino…"

"Shut up about your damn car!" And with that, Gino slugged Ricky.

Lara Mara had his arms around Ricky Bobby, holding the man not so much back as upright, the poor guy being totally unprepared for a surprisingly massive hit. No meat on Gino, but a hell of a lot of speed. Vandham went for the angry tech, hell of relieved to be doing something that felt right, only to be shoved aside mid-swing by Lila. Again, no meat, but acceleration makes something small have a lot of force.

"Stand down!" shouted Lila. And, surprisingly, Gino did. He was shaking, his eyes were wild, but he stopped. They stared at each other, breathing almost in rhythm, until Lila raised her hands, very slightly, palms out. "Gino, I can't explain it, I'm just going to say I'm sorry."

"You know this is bullshit," snarled Gino.

"Oh, I agree with you there. I WILL fix this."

"You better." Gino shot out of the station, headed for the commercial section.

"Should we follow him?" asked Vandham.

"Not to worry, we've got it covered," said Lara.

"Leave him alone!" said Lila, concern and worry finally noticeable.

"Alone, but covered. We aren't stupid. Much."

"I don't see anything to prove that."

"Guys, guys, I don't know what I should do now. And my head sort of hurts." Ricky Bobby looked miserable, and possibly concussed.

"There, there," cooed the mediator. Vandham wondered if the man was making another play, but realized it was nothing but honest concern. Lara Mara wasn't so much patting the tech's hands as taking a quick pulse, not so much gazing into his eyes as checking pupil reactions. "We better get you checked out. Then you should take some time off. A few days to recover."

"Gino's gonna be so mad."

Lila interrupted. "Gino gets over it, you know he does. Let's all take a vacation until Monday. Perfect idea. Thanks, Mara, take care of him. Please." She pushed a forced but cheerful note into her voice. "See you Monday, R-man."

Lara Mara hustled Ricky Bobby away, leaving just her and Vandham standing in the quiet station.

"Well, this is bad," said Lila, after a moment.

"Are you going to explain?"

"I've got zero to explain, sir. We fuel them up and send them off. As close to perfect as we can manage."

"Sounds like the gentle giant is a few numbers short of bingo."

"Ricky's okay, he just has problems with short term memory."

"He was ready to send a skell out half fueled. The bell, remember?"

Lila shook her head dismissively. "That never happens. The bell just marks when we have to change the strength of the mixture. Everything stops refueling automatically until you reset it. You start with the light version, then switch to heavy. That way it practically self-mixes. Light frame, medium frame, heavy, level 30 or baby skell, Sakuraba, Grenada, Aeolian, practically every skell needs a different mix."

As she was reciting the process, her body relaxed and her eyes grew calm. Vandham wasn't sure she even cared if he was listening. "Even the weight of armor can affect it, on some of the custom jobs. The hangar stars have it all premixed, but we gotta do it ourselves. We just don't have the room for all the different types. On the plus side: we can tweak it even more exactly for those extreme custom jobs." There was no mistaking her pride in the station's work. "Same holds for missions. If you're heading for Sylvalum, you just might want to skew towards a lighter mixture, because those mists react weird to the heavier stuff. Opposite for Oblivia, especially for the sandy flats, unless you're in a baby skell, then never mind. Nothing helps you in those little critters. Still haven't figured a way around some of Cauldros' little problems, from what little I've heard that's some weird territory…" She was lost in thought, hands smack against her chin and mouth by now, considering the possible solutions, oblivious to Vandham's stare.

"And you've got nothing to do with it, right?" Vandham said, with remarkably little sarcasm.

Lila looked at him, suddenly back in the uncomfortable present. "I told you already. We don't. Of course, you really should not believe me, last thing you should do."

"Somebody's putting BLADEs at risk."

"Not. Us. But again, why should you believe me?"

"How'd you get those two losers for staff?"

Lila didn't seem to notice the sudden shift in topic. Instead, she leapt instantly to their defense. "They are not losers! Gino was an engineer on the White Whale, original Bug House crew, as you well know. I never heard you complaining about him."

"Then you weren't listening. He's an insubordinate s.o.b. Had to bust him a couple of times. Now it seems like he's completely lost it."

"You busted him more than a couple of times. He missed Lin's feast on account of it once, and boy was he mad. He probably hit Ricky to avoid taking a swing at you."

"So he's not suicidal then."

Lila grinned, then shook her head. "His mim's buggy, same as Ricky's, same as mine." She sighed.

"Wasn't a problem on the ship."

"Artificial gravity is one thing, sir, all simple and safe. Planetary is another. Standing is agony, sometimes. The moons are involved somehow but I can't quite keep it straight."

"Wasn't a problem on Earth either."

"I'm not so sure. There was a high motivation to keep things hidden. And the man has a pain threshold to die for. Literally, almost. Ask him about the day we missed the static electricity build up. That was when we were just setting up, but spectacular. Trust me, the station has safeguards you would not believe now. Anyway, back home, we only had the one moon." Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard.

"And Ricky Bobby?" Vandham could barely say the silly name, that must have been why he suddenly sounded so gruff.

"Short term memory, like I said. Another weird mim synch. On the ship, he worked something routine in the galley, food synthesis maybe. That's the trick. If he knows something from before, he'll do it fine. But everything's new on Mira, isn't it? He was flailing bad, and Eleonora called in a favor."

Vandham winced. He knew all about Eleonora and favors.

"Gino helped figure it out. Build a routine, he learns it without remembering it, and if he isn't messed with, it just sort of flows. Gino's the best, always keeping him singing or laughing, so he doesn't start trying to remember stuff he already knows. Lucky thing Gino was pre-med at some point in his past, which is how he cracked the problem."

Vahdham was staring hard at her now. She looked back at him. The silence grew uncomfortable.

"Any more questions, sir?"

"Not to be insulting, but I'm thinking 70-30, you're not involved."

"No bets, sir. Especially seeing as I know the truth. Wouldn't be fair."

"So what now?"

"Are you my surveillance, sir?"

"Just curious. Humor me."

She huffed a short sigh. "I live there, you know," she said, waving at the dented shipping container that had been converted into the station office. "Mostly. So I guess I need a new place, because I think my assigned housemates turned my room into a recording studio. And a new job, so I can afford a new place, unless I want to work in said recording studio. If they'd hire me. And a new comm device, so I can get a new job, if I need a new job." She sighed again. "I guess my first stop is the Mediators."

"I'd have thought you'd want to keep the hell away from them."

"They solve problems, sir, which is the one thing I've still got. At the very least, maybe they can lend me a comm device."

xcxcxcxcswitchxcxcxcxc

Alexa came hurtling out of nowhere, grabbing Lila and shaking her. Vandham had forgotten that the Outfitter's section was that close to the Mediators, not that Alexa spent much time there anyway.

"Lila! Tell me it's not so!"

"It's … not … so …" managed a rattling Lila.

Alexa gave her a glomping squeeze. Back on the Whale project, on Earth, Alexa had been Lila's supervisor, of sorts, but Vandham didn't think Alexa had ever demonstrated any formality towards Lila. "I knew it! What on earth have you done?" The contradiction made perfect sense, somehow.

Lila didn't speak until Alexa released her. Possibly for lack of breath. "I have no idea. I know we sent them out full. They left the station with gauges in the green, as green as grass. Gremlins, maybe?"

"Green grass gremlins, groovy!" The two women shared a smile.

"But, honestly, Lila, this is bad," Alexa resumed. "Your station is super useful, even if only idiots use it. Who lets someone else touch their skell?"

"Sometimes pilots just need to manage some dinner between missions," suggested Vandham.

"I suppose. No, no, sorry, I'm not buying it. Anyway, Lila's not the only one with problems. Carmela's in the soup too."

"Grenada Galactic Group? I thought that company was expanding."

"Expanding negatively. Something's gone wrong, very wrong with the beam weapons they released this week. Underpowered and expensive. They seem to be sucking fuel like toddlers on a juice box bender."

"Not enough fuel. Please tell me that it is NOT a coincidence," Lila said.

"Wow, I don't know, but I was on my way to check in with her. Why don't you both come along?"

"Er, I need to hit the Mediator's camp…"

Vandham nixed that. "Nope, you're in for the ride."

The three of them strode towards the manufacturers' building. Alexa was busy, filling them in about the disaster that had just hit the up-and-coming Spanish company. "They've sunk all their hopes into this new line. They really bet everything on it. Usually, you'd expect them to keep it diverse, keep their options open, see what was useful. But Senora Celena decided that the resources were too limited. Their best choice was to go deep on light, fast weaponry."

"Trying to nail the hot head market," suggested Lila.

"Well, even I have to admit, Sakuraba can be a bunch of fuddy duddies. With big frames." Alexa couldn't help but drool a little. The others knew to just let her have her moment. "Of course, I made sure I had a chance to test some, and it was looking good. Great, actually. Wicked short cooldown, and so what if you can't target that well? Most of the things I was trying to hit were bigger than a barn, and with way more slashy teeth."

"Barns have teeth?" Lila asked with a smile.

"You know what I mean. Put enough of those babies on and even your tiniest skell is going to do a fair chunk of damage."

"That would be a nice improvement. Those little things are mostly for show."

Vandham didn't feel like defending the smallest skell users. Pathfinders managed to get pretty far into new territory with them. And then they usually needed to be rescued. Definitely not in the mood to defend that. He let the women continue undisturbed.

"I know, right? Some of them are just darling. But once GGG started large scale manufacturing, the trouble revealed itself. Sure, the beam weapons work fine in tests, but in practice they were draining skell fuel at ridiculous rates. Even in overdrive, which shouldn't happen."

"That's impossible," said a shocked Lila.

"And yet they've managed to do it. I'm almost impressed by that, if only I could figure out a way to make that actually helpful…"

"Maybe for fuel containment maintenance."

"Boring."

"It needs to be done sometimes."

"Fine, fine, I want to make something helpful and fun. Like a super big closing blast, dump it all in one go? Drain the lot to leave a nasty surprise if a skell is going to end up scrap in a fight? Anyway, Carmela is looking pretty drained herself. They've tried everything they can figure, no luck. The other manufacturers are talking about booting her from the group, asking Chausson to pull BLADE support."

"Kind of drastic, if it's only been a week."

"We don't have a lot of spare time," rumbled Vandham, and then instantly wished he had kept his mouth shut. Fortunately, neither woman payed much notice.

"Resources are what's scarcest right now," corrected Alexa. "Until we get more probes out and resources coming in, we may have to shut down new development. I think Grenada is really running on the line here. Not everyone was convinced it was a good direction for research to begin with. Aeolian, for example, they've been pushing their own line of light guns. I'll admit, I haven't been impressed by them yet, but if they manage to crack the enemy tech that would be awesome."

"Where are they getting their research data?" asked Lila.

"Left over info from Earth, or so they say. They're running independent operators in weird locations, maybe they're getting stuff from the attack above Mira. It's a little controversial, unless and until they get some good results. But Granada's mistakes are starting to make them look good. And of course, old Sakuraba looks like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth."

"What does that saying mean, anyway?"

"Well, I'm not sure myself, but he definitely looks smug. Hey, there he is," said Alexa, pointing at a distinguished older gentleman, not particularly tall.

"He looks tired," said Lila.

That he did. Next to him, arguing furiously, was Carmela Celena. As the two BLADEs and spare tech approached, she turned on them and directed her anger towards them.

"Tell him. Tell him! We cannot lose hope and give in at the least trouble. There is sabotage going on, I'm sure of it. If you even think about suggesting to Chausson that we stop, we will lose this city. Lose this fight! Tell him this! You call yourself Commander," she rounded on Vandham, "but you are cowardly. It is my people that are going out and risking everything while you push papers and…"

"Now wait a second there," started Vandham.

"Your people wouldn't get a meter past the gate without BLADE support," shot back Lila. "Hi, Mr. Sakuraba," she added. "Ms. Celena, you're right, something is going wrong, in more ways than you know, but don't blame Commander Vandham for it."

"Miss Brown," murmered the head of Sakuraba Industries.

Alexa started filling the industrialists in with a highly colorful version of the disaster at the refueling station.

"How do you know him?" Vandham couldn't help but whisper.

"I met him on the Whale. He needed help with something," she whispered back.

"What, exactly?"

Lila looked guilty in a way she'd hadn't done when the station was being shut down. "It had to do with a weapons test."

"Brown, do not dream of lying to me …"

"Okay, okay, sorry, sir, I let them use the switching station to power a series of tests." She squirmed. "During scheduled down time for maintenance."

Vandham looked appalled at how the great ship had been abused.

"I did the maintenance, do not think for a moment I ever let it slide, sir! Never! I just got it done during lunch breaks."

"On your lunch breaks?!"

"Actually, that's when I usually did maintenance. The main down time, I saved that for upgrades, full system recalibrations and so on. Seemed a shame not to use the breaks for something useful."

"Like lunch."

"Sir, the canteen used to creep me out. I avoided it. Anyway, they needed more power to run certain tests, and they weren't getting permission, so I let them tap in directly."

"Presumably somebody thought the power was needed elsewhere, say, for life support."

"I took it from the traffic grid. Completely useless. We didn't even have a single stop light. Still barely have any. After a few trials, they got official permission, so they didn't need my help."

"Too bad it was the end of your paycheck."

Lila waved a hand sharply. "I did it as a favor and because it seemed like a good idea. What does it matter now, anyway?" But Vandham's eyes stayed hard.

That's when he noticed that Sakuraba was staring at the two of them. "What?!" he barked.

"Miss Brown is correct. We never paid her, except in thanks. What did we have to pay with? We were all struggling. Without those tests, we would never have been ready in time to help BLADE on Mira. It was just as we feared on the ship – our safety was of limited duration."

Celena was tapping her toe angrily. "Our safety is still questionable, when we are being attacked from the inside. There must be a connection. Fuel does not simply disappear. Somebody must be doing this, to destroy my company."

"Why destroy a refueling station?" countered Sakuraba.

"How am I supposed to know the mind of a criminal? Perhaps you could shed some light on it."

Vandham wished there was a Mediator to make peace between the warring company chiefs. They continued to snipe at each other, no matter how nicely he rumbled at them. Lila was sulking and no help, and Alexa was too excited and angry to stay on any useful, calming topic. It got even worse with the arrival of Mr. Martin Laufer, the suave head of Aeolian Tech, the third major manufacturer. He brought with him an entourage consisting of a well-armed body guard and an assistant in tech coveralls who could best be described as part mim, part weasel.

"Ladies, gentlemen, I did not realize that our meeting was to be so, ah, public," he chided.

"If this is an official meeting, I wouldn't whine about present company," said Vandham, pointedly. He was getting more than a little tired of this whole mess. He should have ditched Lila the minute that Lara had left. "You want to make nice with us."

All three industrialists had the sense to look uncomfortable. Maybe that would make them simmer down too.

No such luck. Within one round of comments, they were back at each other's throats, public thoroughfare or no. Celena and Sakuraba seemed especially to dislike each other. Still, Vandham wondered why every time Laufer said anything, even the tiniest of statements, the whole thing got more heated. Just one of those people with a gift for unpleasantness? Or was he trying to make them hate each other? Because that was exactly what was happening.

It was winding up to a final decision. "Much as I respect your work in the past, I'm afraid that Grenada is not suited to conditions on Mira. I just can't see the government of New Los Angeles supporting you out of sheer novelty," said Laufer. Nope, decided Vandham, he's trying to be as nasty as possible.

"I wouldn't quite be so harsh, but I agree that, currently, we simply cannot afford to waste resources," said Sakuraba. "Maybe once the colony is better established, we can reassess the situation."

Celena had drawn a deep breath, lifted her chin and was about to launch into what looked to all intents like a massive and fiery response. Even Lila was unashamedly awaiting whatever she might say.

"So glad to find you all here. Alexa, darling, what a nice bonus!" Lara Mara preempted the unspoken tirade, alas never to be heard in this NLA (it would become legendary in another multiverse).

"Cheeseballs, Mara, it was just getting good."

"Well, I hate to disappoint even a lady. How about this? Martin Laufer, I'm arresting you for vehicular tampering, mission sabotage, and attempted intellectual property theft."

Laufer did not look shocked. He flicked a gaze at his goon, who reached out two massive hands and grabbed the nearest hostages. Lila and Alexa dangled like dolls, his hands around their necks.

"Stop me, and he'll snap their necks." Laufer started walking quickly towards the East Gate. The goon and weasel followed him.

Vandham watched, alert for an opportunity. One that he was not denied. He saw the two women exchange a hard glance, Alexa mouthing an exaggerated word, "knees", even as they choked and grabbed uselessly at the bodyguard's hands. He could count to three with them, blink blink BLINK, then they both drove their boots hard into the man's knees, staggering him. The goon dropped them both, and they ducked to the floor, rolling out of the way. Vandham's fist was already in motion, his whole body backing it up. Acceleration gives small things force. It makes big things something else again. The bodyguard dropped like he'd been hit by one of those much derided baby skells.

Mara was beside them the next instant, helping the two hostages up, and in the process again doing the speediest of reflex and injury checks, first on the women, then on the motionless goon. "Well, he's not dead, that's a relief. That would be something I do not want to BEGIN to explain."

A few other Mediators were corralling Laufer and friend. Sakuraba and Celena were bunched together, practically holding hands in shock, inching away from the chaos.

"What the hell took you so long?" barked Vandham.

"Surveillance footage still takes time to review," Mara replied calmly, "and the fuel diversion technique wasn't easy to isolate and pull out. Proof, dear, we like proof."

"You knew?! How awesome is that?" said Alexa with glee.

"We didn't know, not which one. Even Celena wasn't completely clear. We had to find out which one of those three was behind it."

"Celena? Really?" Alexa's bright eyes grew absolutely round with amazement.

"Stranger things have happened, darling. Where'd you learn that adorable trick with the knees?"

Alexa shrugged. "Somebody tried to steal some skells once, back on Earth. Lila and I had some trouble stopping it. After that, we came up with a plan."

"Why exactly did you need to shut my station down?" interrupted Lila.

"You weren't in the clear, although I'll assure you that now you are. There really were complaints about refueling. It seems that your, um, unorthodox methods triggered the fuel dumping subroutines that Laufer and crew had installed in a number of skells."

"Skells were just dumping fuel? And my methods are just fine."

"Fine, but very different from the standard BLADE hangar. And, yes, fuel was simply released during any activity that called for it. Or no activity at all, for your select customers."

Lila looked horrified. "The environmental damage! I don't even know how to begin to think about it."

Alexa was more skeptical. "No one noticed fuel pouring out of skells? That's hard to believe."

"It wasn't as crude as that. It seems to also require environmental triggers. Ocean locations, or inclement weather. No one can really pay much attention to small details during a sandstorm." He turned to Lila. "We shut you down to check, and also on the off chance that the skells under your care would give us information. We'd guessed, rightly, that Laufer had rigged the subroutine so that it removed itself whenever a skell was tested in the official BLADE hangar. Everything was clean in there, no chance of noticing something funny. Your station was an easier place to look for the problem."

"If it hadn't worked…?"

"We'd have kept looking, in the field if necessary. Just what I dream about at night, running skell debugging programs right below Roof Rock."

"Shh, shh, you're missing the good bits!" Alexa drew their attention to Commander Vandham. If Celena's tirade had been lost for the annals of NLA, the Commander was doing his best to provide a substitute. He glowered down at the two Aeolian members still standing, expressing his official disappointment.

"This is all nonsense. You'll be sorry for this…" started Laufer.

"Sorry? SORRY? Let me tell you…" roared Vandham, proceeding to list the man's failings in education, family background, and unlikely hygiene habits. It was a delight to hear.

Alexa, Mara, and Lila watched it all with growing pleasure. Alexa felt that the sanctity of skells had been debased and this was part of erasing that horror. Mara was pleased to have cleared the mission in less than 24 hours. Certainly worth some kind of bragging rights back at the Mediator hangout, some imaginary points in the never ending playful rivalry between the twins.

Lila mostly felt relief as the realization hit her that she was well and in the clear. The station would be back in business. Life would go back to normal. Then she gave an involuntarily sigh when Vandham crossed his massive arms before launching into a fuller version of exactly which lower bodily function made up the majority of the criminals' characters. Lara Mara shot her a quick, calculating glance.

He asked her, slyly, "So, when are you putting that darling man out of his misery?"

Lila looked blankly at him. "I have no idea what you're getting at, Mara."

"That's just it. Certain folk are not getting much of anything, which is nobody's fault but your own. It wears on a man, don't I know it, but there's only so much we Mediators can do to relieve tension. Mind you, I am always willing to help where I can."

"Mara, you're the best. Almost as helpful as Doug!" chirped Alexa.

"Mmm, now that man has some tension I would truly like to relieve."

"Doug is tense? Wow, I haven't noticed. What do you think is wrong? Do you think I can help?"

"Do you have a pencil? Because I have a number of ideas."

All through this, Lila could only stare, open mouthed, before responding with slightly hysterical laughter. It rolled though her body. In a moment, she was holding her stomach, laughing full on now, tears dropping from her cheeks to the ground. Mara looked extremely pleased, especially when the Commander broke off his harangue to ask what was so damn funny.

Alexa called out, somewhat confused, "We were talking about tension, then she just went off like this."

Lila peeked up at them, Alexa so oblivious, Mara so not, Vandham just so everything, and then slowly she crumpled to the ground, laughing so hard she couldn't breathe, forehead on the deck.

"Release of tension. Common delayed reaction to shock. It's been quite a day. I wouldn't worry about it, dear," Mara explained as the concerned Vandham came over to check on her. Lila laughed harder.

"Maybe I should get her home, get her to relax." He crouched down by her, a calming hand on her shuddering back. This did nothing to stop the riot of mirth tearing through her.

"Excellent idea. We'll make a Mediator out of you yet," said Lara Mara proudly.

"Or maybe a cup of tea?"

"Oooh, sure, you could do that, but I have a few other suggestions…"

"I know! I know! Give her a ride. In a skell, I mean. That always clears my head," interrupted Alexa.

"That would take some gymnastics," considered Mara, almost inaudibly. Not completely inaudibly, because the laughter increased a fraction.

"Get her into a nice bubble bath?" suggested Alexa. Vandham had stiffened slightly, but no one noticed. All eyes were on the helpless, howling Lila.

"No… oh please … mercy… no," wheezed Lila, trying and failing to stop laughing. "Just … please …."

Vandham and Alexa continued staring with astonishment, which just kept her laughing more every time she peeked up. "No, time to stop, must stop before any of them says another helpful word and I die," she thought. She closed her eyes, counted backwards, held her breath. It took reciting fuel tables to shift her mind to a saner place. That and the growing worry on his face, that really wasn't fair.

"Okay, okay, whooo!" she gasped, and with a quick tug from Vandham, she was standing back on her feet, swiping the tears from her cheeks. "I'm good now, I'm okay." She must have been, because she didn't start laughing even after Lara Mara gave her an exaggerated wink. Just scrubbed her eyes a little harder. Alexa was busy thumping her on her back, while Commander Vandham kept staring at her, hand resting lightly on her elbow. Then he gave a quick, decisive nod.

"Lunch. I'm buying. That's an order."

"Have fun, kids. I've got just reams of paperwork to complete on this crew. Come on, you naughty things. Toodles!" They watched Lara Mara lead the soon-to-be disgraced CEO of a soon-to-be disbanded armaments firm and his nervous technician away. The henchman was still out cold, watched over by another Mediator.

"Bet you they rat each other out before they get round the corner."

"No bets, sir, no bets." Her eyes were full of silver sparkles. "About lunch?"

"Like I said, it's an order. You can't say no."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir. Anyway, I'm on vacation at the moment, might as well enjoy it."

"Until Monday."

"Until 0600 tomorrow. Skells need refueling, and I need to find out where my crew wandered off to. And I probably should figure out how to deactivate the Aeolian bugs, or at least flag them. But I could do with some pizza now." She paused, looking shocked. "Argh! Lara still has my comm device!"

"I'll get someone to trot it over to you. Shall we?" He extended his elbow in exaggerated mannerliness.

"Why thank you, good sir."

"I'll join you. I could murder some pizza," said Alexa, cheerfully.

It is a measure of his dedication to the job that Vandham only hesitated a millisecond before offering his other elbow to a fellow BLADE in need of food. And off they went in search of some nice takeout.

* * *

 **a/n: Some day, I will rewrite this in true Raymond Chandler style. Or maybe I should write something with Tatsu and Lin in that style. And L! And Yelv! Oh dear, this may become a thing...**

 **Please excuse the AU nature of my skell fuel technology. I'm not sure how wrong I am, but I know it doesn't match canon. (Fuel is not liquid, that's for sure.) Pretend it works, okay? Better yet, if you have suggestions for a fix, or details on how far from right this is, please send them in, yes!**

 **The original song title was "What a Prone Can Do (to himself)" but I realized that was out of the time line, post Ch. 2 at least. So I had to give my division some love. I'm pretty sure they were singing the Prone version in Homework/2, and quickly changed to something cleaner when Lin arrived at the station. Alexa's time as Lila's boss is also described in Bromance/5/How Can Skells Be Boring.**

 **Next up: Alexa throws a girls-only party. Trash and FLUFF! Bonus: the origin of my Alexa/Doug BrOTP.**


	6. Birthday Present

**Birthday Present**

 **A/N: Girls' night out. Alexa is behaving herself and not nattering endlessly about skells Skells SKELLS. Which leaves a vacuum that can only be filled by trash talk.**

 **Minor swears, alcohol, and trashy innuendos. Spoilers to Ch. 5, set just after then too, definitely pre Ch. 8.**

 **All the good stuff belongs to the geniuses of MONOLITH SOFT, except Lila. Enjoy this festival of fluff.**

 **And before we start, d** **ear reader, I'd love some advice. Everything after this story is high in violence, worry, or adult situations. I'm inclined to start a Part 2. Is that appropriate? Or should I just mark the whole thing as M and plow onward? Advice and opinions are appreciated.**

* * *

'A birthday present, knew I should have brought one…' Lila couldn't help but worry.

"So who's it gonna be? You're the last one to vote."

"Huh, what?" Lila looked up from her plate, and focused on the cheerful crowd around the table. The patio table was full of other women, mostly Outfitters, mechanics or fellow skellheads, but also random techs, some shop workers from the commercial district, Mediators, and one coolly elegant woman from the administrative building. Alexa had a wide range of friends, and had declared that all of them, absolutely all of them, were invited to her first birthday party on Mira. They were the loudest, biggest group at the Repenta Diner, and that was saying a lot, considering the drinking contest going on in the parking lot and the busy industrial center surrounding them.

"Jeez, Lila, you're so quiet, enjoy a little. So which would you prefer?" Alexa teased her former employee.

"Skell model?"

The crowd erupted into laughter. "Now THAT is a good question," crowed Alexa.

"And we all know we'd be here all night, with only you doing the talking," someone chimed in.

"Yeah, well, we'll schedule that lecture for, say, the rest of my life," sighed Alexa, a smile on her face. "No, no, we'll stick with the simple question: Lao or Phog?"

Lila gave a little choking noise. "For what?"

More laughter. "You tell us."

"No, no way, neither!" Lila blurted, then blushed deeply, wishing the words unsaid. It was a change from the unhealthy pallor and beads of sweat along her brow that had up until now marked her face, if anyone had cared to notice.

"Ooooh, what WERE you thinking?" hooted a young mechanic she recognized from the Administrative hangar.

Lila looked prim. "Well, neither of them would be any good at the refueling station."

Alexa smiled happily. "I'll make it easy on you, since you are clearly behind the curve. Which one would you like to date?"

"What is this, high school?" snapped Lila.

"Come on, you owe me a present." Clearly, Alexa was not going to be thwarted.

Lila sighed. "Neither. Honestly."

"Another man-hater," chimed someone.

"No, I like them well enough. Just, not those two, at least, not for that, they're okay just for talking I guess."

"Come on," said the elegant administrator. "You honestly just want to TALK to Mr. Sexy Pants?"

"Not really."

More catcalls and side arguments. "So what's so wrong with them?"

"Nothing's wrong, just, I don't really think they're good date material." Lila looked unhappier the more she said. Suddenly, her posture changed. Shoulders back, eyes up, face blank. Alexa's grin broadened, recognizing the signs. Former Petty Officer Brown was about to lay out a report.

When she spoke, her voice wasn't loud, but it was clear and precise. "Lao leaves his teams behind. Not an attractive quality, not ever. Phog is better, but it's hard to tell if he's thinking anything sometimes. Certainly not attentive to his group."

"I think you are being a little hard," said a dark haired Mediator, hurt hidden in her tone. "He's very intelligent and perceptive, very sensitive."

"He could well be, but he isn't able to share any of it. If you look deep, you'd probably find treasures, but it has to be somebody else, because I don't have the patience."

"You prefer his brother, maybe?" asked Alexa, slyly.

Lila flicked a glance towards the edge of the diner parking lot and the man in question. "Frye would be a loud, fun date, until a fight broke out or my liver gave up. No thank you."

"You want fun, how about Yelv?"

"Phog may seem dumb. With Yelv, there is no doubt." More catcalls and growls, with more side arguments on the merits of smarts versus a nice ass.

Alexa was clearly enjoying the whole ruckus. She leaned back and said, with a slow, wicked smile, "You need brains, huh? Well, then, which one, H.B. or Bozé?"

Lila looked almost angry, for a second, then returned to a calm demeanor. "Bozé is bound and determined to be everyone's teacher and has no respect for anyone outside his training. I choose to remain outside. And Hector…" She couldn't control her face anymore, looking so disgusted that Alexa had to laugh again. "Have you MET Hector? Because I have. Mira has not improved him. If somebody could fix him, I will buy them a beer."

"You like him," said Alexa, smugly.

"I like parts of him, and I wish him well, but preferably far away from me. He's always a royal pain when he rolls into the station," Lila complained. She made a small, gagging noise. Then, suddenly, she smiled. "Actually, I'm glad to see him, because then I know my day can _not_ get any worse."

"Ooo, ooo, I know. Nagi!" screeched a rather drunken clerk.

Lila smiled more broadly, her eyes softening, looking relaxed for the first time, but she didn't say a word. All around the table, women were nodding and laughing.

"Too bad he's married," said the administrator snidely.

"Really? To who?" screeched the clerk again.

"To his work," sniffed the other woman. The clerk blinked, then tipped her head back and laughed loudly.

Lila could have added all of this, but kept quiet. Instead, she said, "The Captain is perfection itself. But too high octane for me."

Alexa leaned forward. "So, what do you need, besides smarts?"

"Loyalty. Strength. A sense of humor. Patience, because I need all the help I can get."

"Sounds boring," said the woman next to Alexa.

"Sounds like a skell," sighed Alexa, almost dreamily.

"Skells have a sense of humor?"

"Well, they sure are fun."

The screeching clerk wasn't finished. "I got it, I got it! Doug Doug DOUG!"

Alexa looked at the woman with a touch of dislike. Lila said quickly, "Yes, Doug is a pretty good choice. He's really nice."

"Really? I'm not seeing it." Alexa's face was darkening further.

"Very nice, and rather attractive too. Nice voice. Baritone, would you say?" said Lila, hiding a smile. "And gentle, under all those muscles." She gazed very carefully in a direction that did not include Alexa. Strange, you could practically feel the anger radiating from the Number One Skellhead. Lila took pity on her, speaking very clearly now. "I don't think he's interested in many things outside of his job, though. And skells, of course."

Alexa's face cleared, and cheerfulness returned to her voice. "Yeah, he's had the chance to try out some of Lin's wildest combos. He's so lucky. I love talking to him about it, makes my day." Her smile was pure and innocent.

All eyes, except Lila's, fixed on Alexa, and the chatter dropped to nothing.

"What? What?"

No one answered, although the table bloomed with laughter. Alexa shrugged, not interested in whatever the joke might be.

"So somebody like Doug," declared Alexa. "But NOT Doug." Clearly, that topic was closed. In fact, the topic rapidly switched to jobs, credits, and skells Skells SKELLS (it was Alexa's party, after all).

xcxcxcxcswitchxcxcxcx

Alexa was happy as a clam. Ridiculously happy. She'd gotten quite a bit of loot, even though she'd told people not to bring presents. Some Ma-non perfume, and a rather tight pink t-shirt, and best of all, several skell magazines. Very best of all, a ridiculously detailed schematic based on the skell fanfic by SuperKoolX3. (She had her suspicions about the identity of the author. Maybe Elma?) The skell was completely impossible, of course, jet black and way too heavy, with a row of shoulder guns almost the same size as it, and flying too, with pink wings, of all things, glowing electric pink wings. She rolled over on her bunk, careful not to crinkle it, to give it one more loving look. She just had to show this to everybody tomorrow.

She frowned slightly. She felt a little guilty. Some of the man-based trash talk had gotten kind of crude. She especially didn't like the thought of Doug being pestered by that screeching shop clerk. He'd be all polite and suffering. He was a good guy, always willing to help.

Of course, some of the criticism had been dead accurate. Unlike practically everyone else, she actually HAD been on a date with Mr. Lao Sexy Pants Huang. A complete misunderstanding, but she had been game for a night out and some good talk about skells. It was all because one morning at work she happened to be moaning about not getting any, by which of course she meant not any time actually using those amazing beautiful machines. Somebody from Sakuraba had misunderstood, and the next thing she knew she was set up for dinner that night with the nephew of the college roommate of a younger brother. Strange how family relations continued, even after brothers and roommates and colleges were long gone. Well, she hadn't been able to refuse, so at eight that night she was sitting in Rosemoss, feeling fairly game for the whole prospect. After all, a girl's gotta eat, sort of. Besides, she had some questions that required field experience, and maybe he'd be able to answer them.

The date, if you could call it that, lasted at most 15 minutes. He'd been unhappy from the start, twitchy almost, and had pulled a completely obvious "Oh I have this really important comm call I forgot to make" play before he had even ordered. Like anybody was dumb enough to believe that. He didn't even bother with the follow up of "Something's come up, let's reschedule for the Saturday after Cauldros freezes over," just mumbled a half-hearted goodbye and scooted for the door. Leaving Alexa a bit miffed. She was used to people sometimes edging away when she got talking, but usually they were more polite. And she really had wanted to get his opinion about balancing distance and accuracy in long range guns.

He'd slammed into another BLADE as he went through the door. Alexa was watching shamelessly, because, well, the whole thing was rather shameless. Lao had gestured in her direction and then evaporated. The other BLADE had come over, blushing hard, and introduced himself as Douglas Barrett, a Harrier. He was stumbling through an apology for Lao when Alexa interrupted him.

"Sit on down," she'd invited him with a big smile. "The hamburgers here are the best, and you won't have to wait for a seat. So, can I ask you about weight factors in skell cannon accuracy?"

And that was how she'd met Doug. They'd actually had a blast that night, two hamburgers each, and a large side of fries, and talking about pure skells. He went on a good rant about Lin and her tests, and the more he said, the greener with envy she got. She was practically drooling by the end. She suspected he was thrilled by all of it too, even the failures, despite his laundry list of complaints. He'd listened to her current problem, how to increase range without reducing accuracy, and given her really good advice based on his experience. Skells were left or right handed, just like their pilots, she knew you couldn't just switch weapons wily nilly from side to side, but she hadn't considered what that meant for balance. You couldn't rebuild a frame to factor that in, but in his experience, a few good augments helped, stabilization for example.

She wondered if maybe she should warn him about the clerk. Nah, probably not, he was a big boy and besides, he was pretty busy, not much of a shopper, she'd guess. Well, she hoped not. But she WOULD show him the schematic tomorrow, it would give him a good laugh. Anyway, it was an excuse to wander by the hangar, not that she bothered with excuses usually.

She fell asleep and had that really excellent dream where she was shooting across the California desert, except it looked a lot like Oblivia now, dodging the Joshua trees, kicking up sprays of sand, riding in the big, strong skell, the nice one that talked sometimes, really just a calm, baritone growl in her ear. It was just about her favorite dream, and she woke up so happy whenever she had it. All in all, best birthday ever.

xcxcxcxcxcswitchxcxcxcxcxc

Gwin hadn't been mentioned at all, thought Irina with some satisfaction.

xcxcxcxcxcswitchxcxcxcxc

The dark haired Mediator didn't feel like going home, certainly not back to work. Even though people were counting on her, she knew that, but she just didn't feel ready to help them. She compromised by taking a very long way back, wandering through the commercial district. The area was nice, with fountains and benches, but it needed flowers, in her opinion. All of New LA needed flowers.

She sighed. The party had left her feeling, well, unhappy. She'd loved meeting all of the other women, and the conversations had been fun. Mostly fun. Well, a little boring at times, because she wasn't much for talking about skells. But it had definitely been cheerful and carefree, so unlike her job as a Mediator.

Don't misunderstand, please don't think I don't love my job, she whispered to the stars. I love it; it is part of me. But sometimes I feel like it isn't enough. Compared to the loss that everyone had suffered, how could kind words bring any comfort?

Phog disagreed with that. The memory was bittersweet and strangely strong. They'd met over breakfast in the ship's canteen, no one else around. She'd already become something of an unofficial counselor at the time, but she would have shied from claiming that title. It just seemed so unimportant. They'd sat in silence, until she just couldn't stop herself. She was surprised that it came pouring out, her doubts, her sorrow, even a touch of despair. She'd been keeping it in, hiding it from her partner, not wanting to burden anyone, and here she was, dumping it on a total stranger. She apologized, but he had looked directly at her, deep respect in his gentle eyes.

"The ship just carries us. It wouldn't have a job if we weren't here. Everything that you call pointless is more important than engines or shields. It's the blood of the ship. And you're sort of the heart, keeping it moving. Keeping it alive." He'd stuttered to a stop. "Sorry. That's just what I think, anyway." He hadn't spoken again, before leaving the table shortly thereafter.

It wasn't fair, what they'd said about him tonight. He was a great team member. She'd only recently gone on a mission with Cross, exciting and humbling, and Phog had been a party member, very strong and exact, even as he sounded unsure. But he had been brilliant at screening her, letting her get in ranged shots, giving her breathing space to send out needed buffs. They'd worked well together. So what if he wasn't much for talking, that every second sentence was half an apology. He didn't need anyone to reveal his treasures. She liked him fine the way he was.

Well, wasn't she just getting huffy about something unimportant? She smiled, and finally turned her steps towards the Residential District. She was ready to listen again, ready to help the other citizens of New LA find some comfort, maybe some happiness. But she realized now, she also needed something to shake her up, get her moving. Maybe she could convince Cross to take her out on a mission again. With Phog, maybe. Because they really made a good team.

xcxcxcxcswitchxcxcxcxc

The party had broken up a while ago, but Lila had stayed behind. She wished she could have enjoyed it more, but the patio seating had been just about the worst possibility she could have imagined. She stood now, back against the wall of the diner. Not even the awning had helped to block the sweep of sky over New Los Angeles, the ring of deceptively protective walls in the distance. There was a lot of parking lot, and street, and more streets, and open platforms between her and the safety of the refueling station, tucked back and below the overhanging administrative district.

She glanced up from the ground, just shortly, in the hopes that the weather had changed. Drizzle, fog, better yet, pelting rain that dropped visibility to zero. It could be flaming rain for all she cared. Anything to reduce her world from awful openness to something manageable. No such luck. Mira was providing another night full of spectacular lunar views. Lila had never looked at the moons.

She'd made it to the diner in the loud and bustling company of other guests. They'd swept her up, leaving work from the hangar area, and she had stuck close to the center of the large group. They hadn't realized they were forming a Lila Protective Device. They'd all gone home now, most back to the residential district. No one lived in the hangar area. Except Lila.

Maybe she could ask Frye. He was busy, over by the far corner of the parking lot, demonstrating just how much vodka he could put back, as he did almost every night. He'd help, if she could convince him she really needed it. He might not even remember it the next morning. That would be a plus. She just wasn't sure she could make it over to him. All her mental strength must have been used up during the party, leaving her surprised at her weakness.

She closed her eyes, drew a deep breath. If she straightened her spine, walked directly forward, she had a chance. Pride could do wonders, and she had a lot of people to make proud. Things to make proud, even. She thought of the White Whale, that grand ship, that had made it all the way to Mira, that had done its job even as it was destroyed, that was still doing its job of protecting and serving humanity even though it was nothing but wreckage now. She was so proud of it, and she could do this.

Another deep breath, a little more posture improvement, she was almost ready.

"Headed back to the hangar?"

Her eyes flew open and her breath whooshed out. How on earth, no, how on Mira was he able to move so quietly? She'd always admired that, except when it annoyed her. She goggled at him.

"Come on, my dinner's getting cold. I was gonna eat it while yelling at someone there." He held up a small bag. Already grease stains were spreading across the bottom. "Chili dog. Disgusting but so's everything else."

"Chili dog plus yelling? Yes. Ew." She smiled, she couldn't help but smile. "Very gross, sir."

"Yeah, well, you don't know what I'm gonna yell about. Trust me, they deserve to have their asses handed to them."

He was already steering her across the parking lot, talking trash about the team that had run out of skell fuel not once but three times this week, waving his arms around, the bag swinging dangerously. She had to step quick to keep up, ducking to avoid the deadly chili dog. His voice was big and surrounded her. His form was big and felt like a wall, somehow.

She was sick with gratitude by the time they reached the station's office, which was also the shack where she stayed most nights. He'd only had to grab her arm twice on the way, to keep her on her feet in particularly open intersections. Just for a second, but it let her know he was there, and wasn't going to let her fall.

"Right, see you Thursday." He smiled down at her.

"Yes, sir."

He paused. "Soooo, how was Alexa's party? Any good gossip?"

Lila blushed again, even more furiously than earlier. "Nothing! Nope, nothing."

He rumbled a laugh. "I'm not sure whether to be glad or disappointed."

"Glad, sir. Let me suggest, glad."

"Well, anyway, those BLADEs aren't going to chew themselves out. See you."

Commander Vandham turned on his heel and walked away.

She entered her shack, correction, the Auxiliary Skell Refueling Station 1 administrative office, and went over to the hotplate. A calming cup of tea was in order. Maybe two. One to recover from the journey, one in honor of her escort.

* * *

 **a/n: And here we see the spark to the whole Alexa & Doug BrOTP, early game and written before the whole Bromance mess. At the time, I vowed that I would set them up. I'm not sure, after all those words, if I have, but I've gotten close and I've certainly made some pretend versions. Also, that dream from Bromance2/3, it came from this piece.**

 **Once upon a time, I had a clear idea of Nagi's back story, but I've scrubbed that. He deserves better, and got it too, because Monolith Soft has some brilliant stuff online, look for the short story "Forging BLADE", by Yuichiro Takeda, on the official XCX JP site. T** **here exists an English translation by Gessenkou, all hail those who translate stuff in the service of us all! Still, in my heart, there exists a slender, bespectacled entomologist in the Lifehold who is special. And, there, I've released that thought and will put it to bed now... (And if you decide to write anything for Nagi, go go go! Or anything at all! Whoooo!)**

 **Next up: Why We Stayed, part 1: For some reason, Lila is more freaked out by the ECP than by the Ganglion. And she's _plenty_ freaked by the Ganglion, because we've reached Ch. 8. Plenty of Gino the OC in the next few pieces, love love love him, but get ready for swears. Bonus: Eleonora. **

**(The next few may be delayed, because I'm toying with putting up another arc of stories as a way of kicking me into finishing them. So I may start alternating. But it'll be up by the end of Jan 2017 for sure.)**

 **Happy holidays of all shapes and spices  
** **Pass me the applesauce or the gluehwein, I'm a happy camper**


	7. Why We Stayed, Part 1

**Why We Stayed, Part 1**

 **A/N: NLA is in danger. So why are Eleonora and Lila arguing about Ricky Bobby? Lila needs to win or I am moving out of New LA.**

 **Set during Chapter 8, oblique spoilers to the post game and J-bodies. Hard swears. Gino swears a lot, feel free to add more. (Honestly, I tried having him say 'fricking.' Wrong, so wrong.)**

 **Lila, Gino and Ricky Bobby are just regular NPCs, sometimes with helpful blue speech bubbles about fuel usage. The rest belongs to the spooky amazing geniuses of MONOLITH SOFT.**

* * *

 _"New Los Angeles is home to us all – including our brothers and sisters yet to be awakened." – Nagi_

The sirens hadn't stopped since lunchtime. By now, you'd think they could ignore them, but it was getting under Lila's skin, increasing her fear, making her check and recheck preparations.

"Do we have enough, do you think?" Lila stopped Gino as he passed. Ricky Bobby was busy stacking yet more barrels and sandbags around the office of the Auxiliary Skell Refueling Station 1.

"No." Gino sounded disgusted she'd even asked. "They come at us, we're screwed. The best we'll do is stall."

"How long?"

"How the hell do I know?" He shuffled his feet, clearly unhappy to be stopping even a moment.

"Right, right, sorry. Can we get one more load?"

Gino headed out to the very edge of the station area, where she couldn't follow. He looked up at the tower, streams of data flickering above and below the yellow number now reading 20%. Yet another thing he could do that Lila couldn't. He shouted back at her. "Maybe I can get one later. We gotta get you and R-man out of here."

She didn't answer him until he came back closer. "Ricky Bobby goes. I'm staying."

"Shut up! What good would you be? I'd rather have him around."

She glared hard at Gino for a moment. "If you could get him to the ship..."

"Hey, guys, can we go now? The announcement said we need to go now. I don't like this noise. So can we go?"

"We're all going," said Gino.

"All three of us? Now?" Ricky Bobby asked happily.

"Yup, come on."

Lila didn't argue just then. She followed her techs the short distance to the elevator that went to the upper Administrative District. The huge service elevator was literally right against the station, a definite business plus. First thing a hungry skell saw was her refueling station. Today, its adjacency had other advantages. She'd been able to monitor the line of non-combatants waiting to use it, and had noticed when the crowd had dwindled to nothing during the past hour. Almost everyone that was getting on the Ma-non ship, planning to be shuttled to safety before the seemingly inevitable Ganglion attack on New Los Angeles, had already been loaded. Her crew had timed it close.

However, things changed on the upper level. BLADEs were still hurrying on last minute errands, carrying last minute supplies. No civilians at first, but once they headed down the main shopping corridor and hung a left around the BLADE tower, they found there was still a bit of a delay, a line of people waiting to use the instant transport onto the xeno ship. People stood in bunches along the stairs, and in the meantime they were busily passing messages to surrounding BLADEs, words of encouragement or blessings of protection. Several BLADEs and Ma-non were organizing the evacuation point. The BLADEs made sure there was no crowding while the xenos prevented over-use of the machine. Every dozen departures or so, the Ma-non adjusted the apparatus, pausing the flow for a handful of nerve racking minutes.

It was during one such pause that Eleonora stepped up to the threesome. "Lila, a word please."

Lila stepped out of line and followed her down and around the edge of the stairs, stopping beside a guardian skell. She was grateful that the composed blonde woman didn't lead her away from the protection of the tower. She wouldn't be able to hear a word otherwise.

"Our friend, he's not going on the ship."

"What do you mean?"

"He's to stay down here and help with combat."

"No, it's okay, Gino and I, we'll do our best by the station. Ricky Bobby's going up."

"It's not about your station. It's been decided. I'm sorry, dear, but you know you two won't be able to do much. We can work with him. That's always been the plan."

"He wants to go up."

"That's not his choice to make."

"It's absolutely his choice to make! You can't tell him no." Lila's voice skipped with anger.

"We will. Please, don't make this embarrassing."

"I will throw a fit if necessary." Strange words from a woman standing as stiff as a needle, but no one would have disbelieved her. "He's a non-combatant. He's allowed out."

"Right now, he's a non-combatant. But we can switch that…"

"How? No, don't tell me, I don't care. Eleonora, ma'am, you cannot do this."

"Lila, think about it…"

"I am thinking about it!" She was hissing with rage now, trying to keep her voice down, speaking each word as if it were a small bomb. "If you refuse to let him on the Ma-non ship, you are making a decision that will last forever. You are deciding something about him that changes who we are. As a city. As a species. Whatever comes next, if you refuse him now, it will divide us forever."

Eleonora's voice was a model of gentle logic. "We need fighters, Lila. Everyone. He can do this. This is an order."

"He's officially a civilian. If he were a BLADE, fine, give that order. But he's not. He is a _civilian_. He gets to make that choice. Or he doesn't. But if he doesn't, what does that mean for any future choices?"

"I am not discussing this now."

"I will say it clear out."

"Do not." Eleonora's voice brooked no disobedience, although her smile remained mild.

Lila stopped, took a deep breath, continued. "This matters, ma'am. Just as much as saving the city. He needs to get to safety. That's what he decided. He matters. He's as precious as anyone else. Or he is not, if you refuse him now. Which means he and everyone like him is not. You can't pretend. Eventually someone will figure it out, and it will get ugly."

"I cannot consider some imaginary rebellion right now when the city is in real danger."

"I didn't mean Ricky Bobby. I'm thinking of other humans and what _they_ figure out about mims like him. About who matters, and who doesn't, and what they can get away with. About who is worth a fraction of someone else."

"We are wasting time, Lila."

"Want me to chose a value? How about 3/5? Tell me you trust them all to choose right. Lie to me."

"He's…"

"If you say expendable, I will kill in your sleep."

Eleonora looked at the normally polite, normally controlled technician in shock. "That is unacceptable talk, even under these circumstances."

"If he doesn't matter, no one does. No one. Including our brothers and sisters yet to be awakened."

Eleonora winced.

"You heard me, ma'am. You think we didn't hear Nagi's speech down below? Hard to miss it blaring directly over our heads. You need to protect him as you would anyone else, or you divide our future in two. Please, Eleonora, please, you need to keep us all safe." Lila was pleading now.

Eleonora looked for a long moment at Lila, calculating possibilities far into the distant future. She spoke gently. "I will do anything to save New Los Angeles." Something had shifted in her face, her voice.

"Please," Lila begged her again, more quietly if no less desperately. "This will destroy us just as surely as the Ganglion would. It'll just take longer. Please."

Eleonora gave a small sound between a sniff and a hum. "This was not the plan."

"Then you've been ignoring a few key facts really hard."

"Very well." Eleonora smoothed her skirt, tugged down her jacket, and smiled. "You'd better get on board. They aren't waiting for stragglers."

"Bless you. You will be the saving of us all."

"We will have a discussion after this is over. It won't be a happy one."

"Anything. I will love you forever. Thank you." Lila ran back toward the stairs.

Gino was waiting around the corner, leaning against the wall. His dark face was tense, but he kept his voice low. "What the hell was that about?"

"Nothing."

"Sounded like she was going to…"

"Nothing, it's settled, let's get up there."

Gino wasn't moving up the few remaining stairs. "She was going to leave him behind, wasn't she, because of his buggy synch."

"No, no, nothing like that," denied Lila.

"Just because he's not as strong in the head, she was going to fucking leave him behind." Gino looked insanely angry.

"Look, Gino, that all had nothing to do with you. Let's get Ricky Bobby on the ship and get back to the station."

"I'm just as buggy as he is. You too. Was she going to bump us? Oh wait, no need, we're the fools that are going to get ourselves killed anyway."

Lila stopped, one step above Gino. Finally, they were about the same height. Being short was the least of her complaints, but she didn't deny this small thrill. Stupid thrill, when what Gino said was all too likely to come true before dinner.

"It wasn't about anyone's synchronization, Gino, nothing about us who are failures as mims." They were ugly words, finally said out loud. Lila wasn't sure if she was lying to Gino or not. There was a lot of space between now and the future, and a lot of space for things she feared might become true. "Eleonora knows Ricky Bobby, from before. She's right about him in a lot of ways that we don't know. He was a soldier, once, somehow, and he can fight. If she says so, I believe her. But she forgot that he still gets a say in his life. She remembers now. I think he's safe."

Gino looked at her for too long. Above them, she thought she caught Ricky Bobby's voice, calling for them. Gino turned to run down the stairs, the wrong way. "I got an errand. See ya at the station."

"Wait…" but there was no point. She turned and bounced up the stairs, and sure enough, there was Ricky Bobby, looking confused and no little bit frightened. He was a good 30 cm taller than she was, but he still reminded her of a little kid lost in a department store.

"Are you guys coming? We gotta go," he whined. He grabbed her hand and started to pull her into the waiting line.

"No, Gino and me, we're going to stay at the station. You'll have to go up alone."

"We're all going. Gino said so."

"Somebody has to watch the station. That's us."

"But I want us all to go. Gino said so! I don't like this."

Lila looked at the hulking tech with a pang of love. She wanted to go, too, far away from all this, to go back to Earth for crying out loud, to before her oceans were gone and everything was ruined. But she could get Ricky Bobby safe.

"We will meet you afterwards. Do you believe me? Look at me. Have I ever not made my word good?"

"No, you always do," he said slowly.

"Right. Even if I can't do exactly what I promise, I make it good. We will meet again."

"Yes. Real soon."

"Very very soon. Now get on that ship."

Ricky Bobby slowly returned to the line of civilians, much shorter now.

Lila had a thought. "Hey, Ricky Bobby. When you get on the ship, see if you can find Twyleth." That was the Ma-non tech that worked peripatetically at the station. Her appearances correlated to pizza deliveries, a fact that Lila sometimes abused.

"Right! The ship's her home."

"Yup. Stick with her, and you'll be okay."

"I'll make sure she's safe. No one's gonna hurt her." Something very clear and focused flickered in Ricky Bobby's eyes, something to make Lila wonder just how far right or wrong Eleonora had been.

"Brilliant. We'll protect the station, you protect the ship." Time had run out. She gave him an impulsive hug, and shoved him towards the transport device.

* * *

 **a/n: Ricky Bobby made very sure that no one hurt Twyleth, whoooo! See "Shield of the Ma-non" for the video.**

 **Meanwhile, the whole destiny of the J-bodies frightens me, not for what they can do or what they are replacing (maybe), but for the logic of what can be done to them, and what that does to everyone else.** **Explanation of "3/5" on request; if you prefer a hint, read the US Constitution, Article 1, Section 2, the parts that are struck out.** **Not sure how Lila knew about it, but she did. Maybe she'd memorized the passenger list. Mercy, maybe Eleanora told her.**

 **Next up (probably in 2017, unless I find some good internet): Part 2. All those embers are getting in Lila's eyes. That's why she keeps having to wipe them, sure. Dear heavens, I love NLA, pray for that city in the shining bowl, kids. Bonus: bad Zelda reference.**

 **Happy Holidays of All Flavors  
Light a Candle and Work for a Good 2017**


	8. Why We Stayed, Part 2

**Why We Stayed, Part 2**

 **A/N: Lila and Gino are just NPCs with helpful blue speech bubbles. They have no business trying to save New Los Angeles. So explain to me why they are still here.**

 **Chapter 8 hard spoilers, because it is on! Contains swears (go Gino go). Also, explosions!**

 **Lila, Gino & the station are mine. Everything else belongs to the geniuses of MONOLITHSOFT. **

* * *

Lila's return to the station was quiet, except for the continued blaring of the sirens. All the BLADEs were already in their positions, only a few groupings still shifting into place. Not a single skell was left in the main hangar. Everyone was up or out, ready to fight the advancing army. A nice steady rain began to fall, adding a natural sound on top of the more threatening mechanical noises everywhere. Lila gave a silent thanks to unnamed powers. Even the slightest cloud cover relieved her difficulties with something she called agoraphobia and which was closer to complete distance blindness caused by utter terror. Heavy rain like this, and she could almost be a normal person.

Lila tucked herself behind the clumsy barricade, already smelling like several kinds of wet barnyard animals. Stupidest thing going; it would be useless. But what else were you going to do? This station had been the thing that saved her when she hit New Los Angeles, that kept her from being useless, worthy of abandonment. She didn't want it destroyed. Plus, the fuel storage tanks could put a nasty dent in the area directly below the East Gate if somebody blew them. There were safeguards, there was fire suppression, they'd drained as much as they could, but better to keep them protected.

Gino didn't reappear for a good 20 minutes, soaking wet and burdened with a large and bulky package. He was wearing a very pleased expression. Also, some serious body armor. He dropped without grace to the deck beside Lila. His mim ran like the wind, but standing was never his strong point. Usually he hid it, but today he wasn't bothering. Lila approved.

"What's all that?"

"I went shopping. Blew all my credits. I got you something special." He handed her a solid looking gun, more than a rifle but less than a bazooka. But not by much.

"What's this?"

"Shotgun."

"No, it's not."

"Its daddy was. I figured you can't aim for shit, so you might as well be able to hit without looking. That puppy is augmented up the wazoo. I'm gonna enjoy watching you blast stuff."

"Your faith in me is gratifying."

"That is, if anything gets past my baby," he said, hoisting up his own weapon with a look of glee. He held a Candid & Credible strobe gun lovingly in his arms. "They promise this'll turn skells into slag. I'm looking forward to testing it out."

"Talk about not needing to aim."

"This is my house. You don't come into it and wreck shit," he said fiercely. Well, thought Lila, maybe the station's been the saving of him too.

Over their heads, a familiar voice was spewing unfamiliar titles. "Huh, sounds like your boyfriend got a battlefield promotion. He's Supreme Commander now."

Lila snorted. "Supreme pizza force."

"That's the Ma-non division." Gino laughed.

"I wonder where the Captain is?" Lila asked. She'd slipped back to the language of the Whale.

"Nagi's in some skell, ready to kill shit, probably."

"They're going to be so sorry when they mess with him."

"Amen to that. I wanna be like him when I grow up." The two glanced at each other, and nervously re-positioned themselves, aiming at a space still empty of threat. "Hey, I got you a head brick, too." Gino passed her some rectangular head gear. Vivid level, and augment slots filled with beam resist, bless him. She snapped it on quickly.

"I prefer a tiara but this'll do."

"Well, excuse me, princess."

How scared could they possibly be if they could keep making these bad jokes? Plenty, she thought. Plenty scared.

She listened as Commander Vandham's voice kept blaring at the opposing troops. He's really talking to us, she thought. The Ganglion don't care.

"Blah blah blah. So why isn't boyfriend out there?"

Lila shrugged and gave a guess. "Somebody has to keep the lights on. The Chief can run the whole city singlehanded, same as the ship. And he's not…"

"Uh huh, sure. You know Mara and me got a bet going. Hey, look out!"

Above them, they heard the rows of BLADE skells readying their weapons. Lila couldn't repress a shiver. The rain did nothing to soften the sound as Vandham's countdown reached down to one. On his command, weapons fire ripped from the upper edge of the city wall.

"Whoo whee, let's go, kids," said Gino excitedly. Or maybe he shouted it, but you could barely hear it for the blasts.

For a long while, the air rang with gunfire. Long, endless gunfire. Maybe in waves, but so close together Lila couldn't be sure. Until there was a clear pause.

"That's it?" Gino said in disbelief. Lila said nothing. Neither relaxed. And they were correct, because once again, the sirens shredded the space above them. Something massive was approaching NLA from above. Gino had looked up, and readied his gun. Lila kept her eyes down. She didn't need to look up. The wind itself was shifting, shoved aside by something hot and metallic and impossible to fight.

"It's black, Lila. Three dangling legs. Bigger than BLADE tower. It's dropping troops, like killer paper clips."

"Let's go, kids," Lila whispered back at him. "I hope you're right about this gun."

"Me too."

Explosions were going off high above the city. Debris was starting to ping down. Not all of it Ganglion. Lila wiped her eyes. Rain, it was just more rain. If she started shaking, she'd never hit anything, even with Gino's monster of a present. BLADEs that Lila didn't even realize were still in the city were jogging past them, out into better positions. She and Gino stayed put, crouched behind their hastily constructed wall. Under pressure, she couldn't see and she suspected Gino couldn't stand. They were best where they were. At least, they wouldn't get in the way. She didn't think anyone even noticed their little holdout, or cared.

In the shortest of times, she could tell that the defense force had organized itself within the walls of the city itself. Skells firing at incoming attacks, some right beyond the shipping containers that surrounded the refueling station. They weren't holding back. Each shot pushed them backwards, digging their treads into the deck. The grip's pretty good, but it could bear improving, Lila mused absently. That one on the left, pushed past its neighbors, for sure needed better maintenance. We'll run a special deal at the station, tread cleaning half off, after this is over. Random thoughts, comforting and strong. Anything to distract from her fear, boost her confidence.

The darkness was eerily lit by embers floating with the rain and laser blasts shooting upward against it. She didn't think it was even close to evening, but the light was blocked by whatever it was above them. Suddenly, she could feel a shiver through the very deck of the city. Something very nasty was happening over about 30 degrees ahead, not close, but big. "Commercial district?"

"Something's throwing fucking cars, Lila!"

"Don't tell Ricky Bobby. He'll cry." The BLADEs ahead of them rushed in that direction. Lila felt very alone.

"Yeah, you go show 'em," shouted Gino after them. "We got this."

"We got nuts."

"That too."

More time passed. Nothing. Explosions, above, far off, fires and flames. To the left, the residential sector was fairly quiet. Most fighting seemed to be directly across from them, in the commercial and industrial sections.

"Do you think they're going for the west gate?"

"Why bother with a gate if you can hop over?" Just talk in the darkness.

Gino stiffened, and looked towards the regulation hangar. "What the… I'm seeing things!"

Lila snapped her head up and peered into the area across the walkway. Again, her vision buckled and warped until she had to slam her eyes shut or start screaming. But two fighters, running towards the restricted hangar at the far end. She'd never heard them pass. They looked like…

"Kittens? What the hell?" marveled Gino.

"Shoot them."

"Wait, there's one of our skells. They've got a line of defense, they've got…"

What happened next was brutal. Lila didn't know how one recognized the sound of a skell being ripped to shreds, but it was unmistakable. A shinging slice, a bounce wrapped with a crunch, and a sickening slide. Two fighters, on the ground, and they'd done it in seconds.

"Oh my god, the line's down, the line's down!"

More BLADE skells were chasing after the fighters, rushing past the station area. Gino stood up to look, but Lila grabbed the back of his belt and shoved him down. Not really necessary as three more crunching shudders almost buckled the floor below them. She could barely stay upright, and she was in a tight crouch. She couldn't look far, but she caught a glimpse of a group of alien mechs, black and huge, plucking the smaller BLADE skells off their feet and impaling them with cruel efficiency.

"Now! Shoot shoot shoot!" she screamed at Gino.

Pointless. So pointless. Their weapons could have been perfection itself, and maybe they were, but they were way out of range. She'd have said the enemy didn't notice them, except one casually tossed the better half of a skell chassis at them before moving off. It caught the edge of a shipping container with enough force to shove it towards them, twisted at 45 degrees. If it had skidded 2 meters more, they'd have been paste.

Gino was clambering out, headed over the container on shaky legs. Lila hoisted her ridiculous box of a gun and followed. She tried not to look at the skell wreckage, with its pilot compartment darkened and gutted. Didn't stop her from using it as a handhold. She felt cold.

At the far end of the regulation BLADE hangar, Lila recognized the grating rumble as the great blast doors of the restricted section opened. Gino reached back to pull her up onto the top of the shipping container.

"We could chase them, or we could wait for them," he panted.

"What do you think?" Lila said, sourly. Neither of them were in any shape to move.

"I could go."

"And do what? You can't stand. You're only good if you're moving. Let's give these toys of yours a try when they come back."

"…" She never found out what Gino had to say as a tremendous explosion ripped through the hangar, flicking them off the top of the container and back into the station area. Orange flame followed them, stealing the air, the space. Lila slammed backwards onto the deck, Gino right beside her. Luck was with them. As Lila and Gino landed, the wrecked skell shifted and groaned, following them. They were almost but not quite pinned under it. Lila looked upwards through the tangle of wrecked technology into pure flame. The skell's armor protected them from the worst of the blast. Even dead, thought Lila, this BLADE is doing his job. I owe him something fierce. Or her. The fire suppression system snapped on, spraying the area with halogenated hydrocarbons and blast gel and whatever other crazy science experiments the designers had decided on. Plus the off-market improvements Lila had managed. For once in the battle, the home team was ahead. After a minute, Gino and Lila helped each other out and onto their feet, scrambling to get their weapons ready.

No point really. Already, the black mechs were in the air, hauling something out and away from the hangar area. The weird alien relic that people weren't supposed to know about, much less discuss. Lila thought it had been some kind of vehicle, but she'd been a good girl and hadn't asked. Gino fired off a few shots, but his heart wasn't in it.

"God dammit! I spent all my money on shit all! It didn't matter a lick!"

"Well, we're ready if we ever have a stick up," comforted Lila.

Gino glared at her and continued to swear, and throw things, and generally act as if he had lost all sense. "Shhh, shhh, stop it." Lila held up a hand.

It was quiet. Not peaceful, but the sirens had stopped. The great hulking transport ship overhead had drifted away. There were no new explosions, no scream of missile barrages. Forms were hurrying towards the hangar, through the smoke, but they were the good kind of skells, followed by human teams. The rain was just rain, with only a few embers.

The Battle for New LA was over. Time to start fixing what could be fixed, rebuilding whatever couldn't. It was going to be a long week.

* * *

 **A/n: In game, when Vandham demonstrated he could count backwards, I almost died.**

 **Next up: No one feels exactly like celebrating. Vandham reads Lila the riot act. Bonus: I get to to to write Ma-non, okay? Which is so so so fun, don't you think?**


	9. Gino's Lament

**Gino's Lament.**

 **A/N: People are licking their wounds after the Battle for New LA. Set right after Ch. 8**

 **Sorrow and swears by the dozen because I just let Gino rip ( & Vandham, duh). Lila and the station crew are mine, but the whole wonderful world and all its other creatures belong the geniuses of MONOLITHSOFT.**

* * *

Another Tuesday, not much going on. The Reclaimers had removed the burnt-out skell, and Lila had hired some random help to scour various bits of blast gel and fire suppressant off her refueling station, as well as repair the roof of the storage container that served as their office and otherwise fix things that had been burnt, shredded, or crashed into. The business was back in poor shape within 24 hours, in full run, all three bays open and refueling, in double that. It had been a long week, but life was back to normal, practically.

You wouldn't realize how close they'd come to losing the city, how many BLADEs had lost their lives to the Ganglion attack. The deck was scarred a little, that was all.

But Lila could figure out where that skell had been, the one that had protected her and Gino. Exactly 17 steps from the door of her office. Between where the scrapes ended, and the burn marks, scrubbed almost but not quite away, began. Not a bad point to stand and view the station, somewhat subdued but still busy.

Ricky Bobby and Twyleth were at Bay 1, their usual duty station. Used strictly for refueling, if they weren't absolutely swamped, which today they were not. Strange, Twyleth kept getting in Ricky Bobby's way, dashing around his legs, bouncing off him more than once. Usually it was the other way round. Mostly, the little Ma-non had to keep a careful watch that R-B didn't trample her in his eagerness not to miss any step of the job. But now the Ma-non was the one constantly asking questions of the human. Not job related, that hadn't changed, the xeno tech knew her business just as Ricky Bobby so didn't know his. No, these were personal questions, friendly questions. What was Ricky's favorite music? What was his favorite color? What was Ricky's favorite food? Pizza, right, because what could be better than than than pizza, you know? But what kind of pizza?

Lila stopped eavesdropping. Something had happened on the Ma-non ship during the attack. She didn't know what, she had been too busy to find out, but whatever it was had changed that pair's relationship. If she didn't know better, she'd say the Ma-non now had a big crush on her slower-thinking human partner. Why else would she be here when it wasn't pizza day?

What HAD happened up there? That was supposed to be the evacuation ship, keeping human civilians and other xenos safe. But once they'd come back, Ricky Bobby had told her, with a huge smile, that he'd done just what Lila'd told him to. Stuck by Twyleth and made sure she was okay. Lila had said it just as a way to keep him out of trouble, but something else may have happened. "Nobody hurt her," he had said, with satisfaction. Which hinted that maybe it would have been different if he hadn't been there. When she had time, she'd ask around.

Bay 3 had a retreading job. Priced half off, just like she'd promised herself. She would run the special for one more week, maybe two. She hadn't enjoyed watching the skells pushed back for lack of good traction. If it came out as a loss, she'd cover it herself. She needed to get back to it, but after doing 6 of these jobs in a row, she had to admit that she was getting bored by it. Two more weeks, she decided. I can bear two more weeks, after just sitting there and watching those guys fight.

That was all the good Gino and she had done during the Battle for New Los Angeles. Watched and cowered and possibly insulted an enemy skell or three. She didn't like thinking about it.

A sudden burst of swearing from Bay 2 drew her attention. Gino was cursing loudly at a baby skell. No one liked working on those finicky weak darlings, but this was something else again. Gino had the fueling coupler mostly disassembled, parts scattered at his feet. He was leaning against the wrench he was using to strip another of the rings that so often blocked the connection. She'd be glad when the whole of BLADE switched to the larger level 30 models being released now.

Gino had stopped even trying to take off the ring. He was swaying in front of the skell, a perky green number, screaming at it. Then he lifted the wrench up and swung at the machine.

"Stupid! Useless! Piece! Of! …" with each word, he slammed the oversized wrench into the side of the skell. Lila made a running leap to grab his hands as they flew by.

"Worthless! Oughta! Pound! You! Into! Scrap!" Gino was still getting some good blows in, even with Lila flapping along attached to his wrist. He'd lifted her off the ground a few times.

"Gino!" she shouted. "Stop it! Stop it! What are you doing? Skell insurance is not cheap!"

"Just let it die!" Gino was really whaling away on the skell. Lila couldn't stop his fury, so she switched to trying to drag him away from the innocent mech. On an upswing, she managed to get him off balance and twist him away, then wrapped her arms around his chest and placed herself between him and his target. Not good enough, not for long. Talk about being pushed back. Maybe she should retread herself. From the corner of her eye, she was relieved to see Ricky Bobby and Twyleth running towards the fracas.

But Gino had already dropped the wrench once the skell was out of reach, and instead he'd leaned into her embrace. He slammed his head, over and over, into Lila's shoulder. Tears were streaming down his face as he continued to howl. "I'm worthless. Useless. Burn it down. It's all shit. Should've died a long time ago." By this time, Ricky had reached them, and without asking, he wrapped his massive arms around the both of them. Lila was grateful for the support, literally. Gino was practically dead weight by now, although he was still battering her damp shoulder.

"Shhh, shhh, baby, it's okay," she murmured stupidly. She held him all the tighter.

"Shh, shh, we got you, Gino," echoed Ricky Bobby.

xcxcxcxswitchxcxcxcxc

Twyleth did not know what to make of this human behavior. She wondered why Gino was upset. Should she be upset too? But Ricky wasn't, not really, not worried. She knew when he was worried, he'd hunch his shoulders and shuffle. Now he was standing tall, just like on the ship, when those humans came to attack all of them, the ones that were the Ganglion's friends. No other humans were that mean. Certainly not Ricky Bobby. He was taking care of Lila and Gino. Ricky was just so so so amazing, you know? Lila had started the hug, and Ricky Bobby had joined it, so she, Twyleth should help too. But how could she? She darted around the group of humans, not quite sure how to fasten herself on. Her arms were just so so so small, right? She needed longer arms.

Lara Mara! What a brilliant idea. He was usually over by the elevator, right? Just a skip away. And as a Mediator, wasn't he sworn to help all the civilians in New Los Angeles? She pattered over towards the elevator. Its gates were swinging down and she spotted an even better solution in the shape of Commander Vandham. Now that was a set of arms, don't you think?

"Come on, you're just in in in time, right?" Without saying more than that, she ran behind him and pushed him towards the station. He was asking questions, putting up some kind of protest, maybe, but Twyleth was not going to lose this chance to win the hug.

"Ricky! Ricky! I brought more help, you know? Do you think this will improve the hugging?" She grabbed one of the commander's wrists and wrapped his arm around the sobbing, soothing group.

Ricky Bobby swung his own arm out a little farther and encompassed the stunned BLADE into the group embrace. "See, Gino? We're all here. It's going to be okay, right?" Twyleth was pleased. Ma-non ingenuity at its best! Why do the job yourself when you can get get get just the right tool, you know?

xcxcxcxcswitchxcxcxcxc

Commander Vandham stayed put and tried to assess the craziness crammed up against him. In the center was Lila on one side, crooning, with Gino to the other. Her scrawny and generally volatile tech was weeping and swearing in equal measures. The great big liability, Ricky Bobby, was holding both of them, and now him, mostly. And there was a Ma-non hanging off his belt. "Lila, what the hell…" he breathed into the station manager's ear, conveniently located directly below his mouth.

She turned her head and flashed him a glance, all brown and silvery wet. A slight shake of her head, a flick of her lashes. Later. He got the message. She went back to crooning at the tech, who was telling some kind of sob story now. Vandham tried to find some emergency patience.

"…said I wasn't a real part of it, the city, that she wasn't going to waste her time on…"

"Why didn't you tell her…"

The tech looked up, dark eyes bitter. "We did shit, Lila. We were no good. No one needed us. She was right, she was right, she was…" He slammed his head down again and again.

"Maybe she's just mad you spent all your money," suggested Ricky Bobby.

"Ricky!" snapped Lila.

Gino twisted and growled. "I'm broke too. Way to rub it in."

"You'll earn more. You can have my overtime shift if you want."

This forced a laugh from Gino. Thank God. Maybe this hugfest would be ending soon, because this was not in Vandham's comfort zone.

It took longer than he hoped. Lila had them organized pretty quickly, but she kept a hold of Gino. That's right, Vandham remembered, the tech's legs had a tendency to buckle at awkward moments. She kept Vandham to Gino's right. Ricky Bobby and Twyleth were sent into the office for sustaining warm drinks. For everyone. Wonderful, thought Vandham with deep sarcasm, dark roast machine oil. The station was infamous for its terrible coffee.

It got worse. Twyleth had found some hot cocoa mix. Only Doug would drink this crap, thought Vandham. Why hadn't he been the one kidnapped by an enthusiastic Ma-non? Enthusiastic and loyal. God, he thought for not the first time that day, we don't deserve these allies but I sure as hell will keep 'em. He tried to sip the brew politely, but something in his expression was giving Lila a case of the giggles. Screw that. He put the mug down and said, "Are we done now?"

Gino managed to look both furious and shamefaced. Lila just looked disapproving. At him, not at Gino. Then she fished her comm device out, gave a few swipes, and said, "Pizza. Go get it. Don't come back until you're done. It's on the station. And bring me back a suid and coldberry slice."

While Lila was gathering up the mugs (mostly empty, this really was a station staffed by freaks, he thought to himself), Vandham watched the unlikely trio move off towards the commercial section. The Ma-non was practically skipping with glee beside Ricky Bobby. He wasn't sure Lila's business could afford this move, but he wasn't going to argue.

"You gonna explain?"

Lila sighed. "Gino's girlfriend dumped him because he's not a BLADE. Not brave enough to be worth her time. The attack clarified her thinking or something."

"And his staying to defend your dump of a station didn't impress her? Against orders, I'm going to add, because that's why I'm here. To pound some sense into you rank amateurs."

"He didn't bother to tell her. He knows we were stupid to stay. I know it too." She turned sad eyes to him, helpless, "Just, at the time, we couldn't make ourselves leave. We'll remember it next time."

"I'm going to pretend that the message has been received by Gino. He's more fragile than I remember him being. But you are not getting off, missy." He blocked her way into the office, crossed his arms, and gave her his best glare. "What the hell were you thinking, taking on an enemy attack with a patched together pile of sandbags, two losers, and some extremely off market firepower?"

Snap. Oh lord, he'd forgotten that face she'd get, when she had to take it. Eyes clear, blank, face blank and pale, back straight like a poker. Hands at her side, the mugs dripping cocoa dregs. "It was wrong, sir."

"Wrong does not begin to cover it." He was warming to the theme. Chew out enough overly clever teams, you got a pretty good standard reprimand. "Can you, or can you not, understand the order to evacuate?"

"Yes, sir, we understood. We were wrong to ignore it."

"You think you are any different from the rest of New LA? Better?"

"No, sir."

"You are not better. In fact, you behaved several levels worse than even I expect to find in this rat hole of yours." He paused. "Eleonora sends her greetings, by the way."

Lila flinched. She muttered something that could have been, "Kill me now."

"What? You care to share it?"

"No, sir. She needs to tell me something. Probably about how obedience is important to the smooth running of a large institution. She's not wrong."

"You're getting really good with that word. Right, wrong, screw that. Idiocy, or a lack thereof, is more the issue. I need better from you."

Even Lila's perfect stance couldn't hide that he was getting to her. Good. Maybe she wouldn't try to give him a heart attack the next time things blew up. "Sorry, sir, it won't happen again."

"Damn straight it won't. If there is ever an evacuation order again, I will make sure you and your band of jackasses are the first to be off-loaded someplace you can do no harm. Under guard. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." But then she looked at him, with eyes so full of sorrow that he almost stopped his rant. Only almost. "Sorry, sir, but what can you do? This station is…"

"Completely disposable. You could turn it into a latrine tomorrow and New LA could care less. It gets broken? No loss. We can replace any crap I see here in a week. Don't even try to pretend it's of value."

"You're right, sir, you're right. We won't make the same mistake again. Gino and me, we tried to pretend, but we get it now. We're worthless."

God, he could have shaken her. He leaned into her face and growled very clearly and slowly. "You're worth everything, that's the whole damn point. The station? Crap. You? You cannot be replaced. Are you starting to get it?"

If her eyes got any wider, she'd need a new face. "Yes, sir, I understand, sir." And dammit he hoped she did, because he did not have any extra time to worry about her, or Gino, or her station.

He pulled away and relaxed his arms, and Lila relaxed her stance. She lifted the mugs back to her chest and shrugged. "I guess I better start on all these unfinished jobs. At least until they come back from lunch."

When she came back from her office, mugless, he was bent down, inspecting the green skell in the middle bay. "What happened to this one?" The lower left leg was badly dented, but the rest of the thing was fine.

"Friendly fire, I'm calling it. I hope the insurance covers it."

His back was to her. He continued, softly. "Eleonora explained the topic of your little tiff. Care to discuss it?"

She squatted down next to him and poked the dents. "No, sir. It's just, I have a lot of time to think, down here. Not exactly full time brain work, is it? I worry about Ricky's future, how he's going to fit in, broken as he is. Think we can beat these dents out ourselves?"

"Not likely. Very noble of you to spare Ricky Bobby your worry."

"Not really. I'm worried about all of us."

"All you broken ones."

"Not just us. But, yeah, starting with him, and starting with us. It won't necessarily get easier, once the Lifehold is found."

"If…"

He hadn't gotten the word out of his mouth before she gave his arm a good pinch, before swiftly returning her attention to the skell. Ow, dammit, she had a grip. "When, sir, and you should be the last one to forget that. Since you're going to find it for us."

He looked over at her, hiding a smile. "On my own? Or am I allowed help?"

"All the help you can get, sir, of course. But you will do it. I'm sure."

"Brown, remind me, who is supposed to be getting their ass handed to them?"

"Me, sir. We were stupid and useless, and we will be better in the future. You can count on us, really you can."

"Well, I'm not envying your next interaction with New LA's all-seeing blonde. Honestly, she scares me."

Lila grinned as they both stood up. She quirked her head. "What ever happened on the Ma-non ship?"

"You haven't heard? Ha, it was good. I'd save it for Thursday, but you look like you could use good news now. Some asshole xeno-haters decided that it was a good opportunity to attack the Ma-non ship in all the confusion. What the shields didn't take care of, your Ricky Bobby mopped up nicely. A one man wrecking crew, that boy, given the right circumstances. Eleonora is pleased."

"Really? So that explains the current state of hero worship at my station. But, oh, do you mean they were humans? Us?"

"Likely, although we're not completely sure. Probably that crew that killed those Nopon a few weeks back."

Lila looked stricken. "I cannot believe it. Why would they do this? Don't they realize…"

"Who knows or cares? We'll probably have to take them out soon, and I think I know the team to do it. Don't worry. Your employees are all safe. I'll send you the surveillance video from the ship. Blink and you'll miss it, that boy is efficient. Even Nagi liked it."

"I am so glad. Something went right."

Many things were going right, in his opinion. New LA was still standing, they still had better people than they had any right to expect, and better allies. Lila and her station were still there, thoroughly weird and broken and just as irreplaceable. He said good bye, and sloped off to find some other miscreant to set straight.

* * *

 **A/N: This was supposed to be a short little thing, not much point to it. Somehow, I got to play with the voices of Lila AND Vandham AND bonus! Twyleth. Short, ha! I'm starting to love Gino and Ricky Bobby almost as much as I love Lila. And of course I love Twyleth so so so much, you know? This is one of the last bits to be finished, even if it is in the middle.**

 **If you want to know exactly what happened when that jerk Alex and co. tried to take on the combined might of the Ma-non and Ricky Bobby, check out "Shield of the Ma-non".**

 **Next up: I don't care what it looks like, Vandham and Lila are not on a date. No, no, no. Flufffffffff with extra cheese.**


	10. Ceci n'est pas

**Ceci n'est pas un rendez-vous.**

 **A/N: Lila needs to tell Vandham something, but it appears he jumped to conclusions. Or was he pushed?**

 **Set just after Chapter 8, hints at a side quest line. Swears, even though Vandham was on his best behavior.**

 **Lila's not Cross, she's not even close, just a helpful NPC with a blue speech bubble. Everything else belongs to the geniuses of MONOLITH SOFT. 2 TP if you can spot the temporal contradiction with a previous story.**

* * *

Lila peered into the raucous dim space of Armory Pizza. Several tables of Ma-non were singing Happy Birthday. The delicate and intelligent aliens had fallen in love with human culture in a big way. Their pizza obsession was only the most glaring aspect. They'd developed a fancy for human celebrations too. Currently there was a fad for birthday parties, complete with party hats and streamers, although they weren't big fans of cake. So now the pizzeria was offering birthday pizzas with candles. Lila could see lights twinkling from at least one table.

On her own, Lila wouldn't have come near the place. She had met Yuyu through her employee Twyleth, and she still wasn't quite over her death. But this is where Vandham had suggested they meet, and if the rest of the Ma-non were okay with it, who was she to complain.

"Sorry about the noise. I gave you guys a booth in the back. More romantic, or at least more private. I hope it's okay." The young woman seemed almost surprised by the crowds, even though she must be working hard for the continued success of the restaurant. Strange way to describe the atmosphere anyway, "romantic". Lila couldn't remember the new manager's name. Sorrel? Cilantro? She let it slide. She didn't feel like correcting her misconception.

And there he was, taking up most of the booth by himself. A party of one. He patted the space next to him and grinned. Lila sat, not quite at ease, and looked at him with some suspicion. If she hadn't thought it was so important, she would have apologized and left right then and there.

"I was kind of surprised when you called," he said. "Didn't expect you to be so forward. Not that I'm complaining."

Lila's heart sank. Oh dear, please, no. Let her be totally wrong. Let him be totally teasing.

"But it's nice to take a break, off working hours. I'm glad you called."

Lila stopped herself from grinding her teeth. Well, she'd nip this right now, even if she was wrong and ended up looking like a total fool. "This is still work for me, sir. I needed to talk to you about something station related, and I didn't want to wait until Thursday." Thursday being their weekly minimal coffee klatch and invoice review. Lila took a calming breath and willed herself not to say "um" or "er". "This is not a date. Sir." She hadn't stammered, but she couldn't avoid cringing.

Vandham grunted, and it wasn't exactly a pleased grunt. She looked at him dubiously and did not like the look on his face. Oh, he was angry. Rats, she'd rather have had him laugh in her face for being an idiot. But he spoke calmly.

"Well, like I said, a break's fine."

"I'll just tell you and go, sir."

"The hell you will. I haven't had a date walk out on me since freshman year, and I'm not starting now." He'd laid his hand on her arm, firm like an anvil, and she couldn't have walked out even if she'd wanted to, even if she was wearing a baby skell. "At least eat something first. I already ordered one, the Primordia Sunset, suid and rock orange."

"Oh, sort of like Hawaiian. I liked that, back in San Diego."

"I know you did. You always pounced on it when the team ordered take-out. What was the name of that place we ordered from?"

"Olympic Pizza. Close by and fast. Part Greek, part Mexican, not very Italian to be honest."

"Well, this ain't very Italian, but it is tasty. So relax. Eat something, shoot the breeze, and then you can go." He had managed to stop scowling, to her relief. And blushing? She felt really bad now, but she tried her best to relax.

This wasn't the easiest thing to manage. She wanted to launch into her explanation of her work concern, but he was having none of that. "Shut up about that. I am off the clock, dammit, at least for an hour. I'll let you tell me after I've eaten. Maybe."

While they waited for the pizza, conversation had been slow to start. Until they started playing the what-do-you-remember game, about the time they had both been on a short-term project in San Diego. What was the name of the guard who always came by for coffee, unasked? Why did Seaman Cruz always seem to need to make a phone call? How big was the hangar anyway? A dangerous game, actually, because if you remembered too hard, you remembered other things. Like San Diego not existing. The Pacific Ocean not existing. Lila started talking about surfing and suddenly choked, unable to say another word. Vandham switched topics instantly.

"Nice of you, not to ask about the time my other date walked out."

"This is not a date, sir," Lila said in a small voice.

"Friday night, pizza, girl. And not a date. How sorry-ass is my life?"

"Nonsense. I'm sorry for the confusion, but it really isn't that bad."

"Well, not as bad as that first date. You want to hear disaster? I'll tell ya about it." The pizza had arrived, and Lila was content to listen and eat. Not Hawaiian, being unattractively grey, but it was good, salty and sweet.

"So I was 14, and dumb as a box of rocks."

"I thought you meant freshman year in college."

"Woman, I had stuff figured out by then," he said in an aggrieved tone. "But freshman year of high school, well, I was the dumbest thing on two legs. Complete jackass."

"Hard to imagine, sir," she said with a repressed smile.

"You'd think, right, with how smooth I've turned out?" He grinned himself. "It took me most of the year to get up the nerve to ask a girl out. I didn't want my voice to break smack in the middle of the request." He mimicked a reedy young voice. "So, um, er, squawk, you wanna go to the da-squawk-aance?" They both had to laugh.

"Anyway, I picked a real peach. Smart and a year older than me and miles better developed. Really better developed."

"I can see problems already."

"Yeah, no kidding. She hauled off and slapped me within the first hour."

"What did you DO?"

"Why does everyone assume I was the guilty party?"

Lila just peered up at him seriously, trying very hard not to laugh.

Vandham spoke with eyes round and innocent. "I just asked her why she bothered with good grades when she was built the way she was. It was meant to be a compliment."

Lila's jaw dropped.

"I think I also gestured, to clarify my point."

Lila lost the fight against the giggles. After a moment, she sighed and said, "I may just have to slap you again, sir, in solidarity."

"Don't bother. She was the relief pitcher for the girls' j/v softball team."

"Oooooh, that must have smarted a bit."

"It hurt like hell, and I deserved it. It got worse, though."

"Don't tell me. She had a brother."

"No, when I said worse, I meant it. She had a sister. Queen of the school, popular doesn't even begin to describe it. Cheerleader, school council, yearbook. She ruled the school with a kind but firm hand. I didn't get a date for 3 years."

"Wow."

"Yeah. None of the girls gave me the time of day. A few boys stopped talking to me too. You did not mess with her little sister."

"Poor baby. Should I feel sorry for you?"

"Naw, that's okay. I felt plenty sorry for myself at the time."

"So, are you telling me you didn't date until college?"

"Naw, I fixed it, but it almost killed me."

"Tell me. Please."

Vandham sighed. It really must have been hard, she thought. "Toward the end of junior year, I was feeling just a little desperate. Here I was, 17 and still pretty much an outcast. I had grown about 6 inches and made varsity, did I mention that?"

"Oh. Football."

"No way. You think Momma was going to let me risk getting a concussion? Hell no. She chewed the coach out just for asking me to try out freshman year. That was a sight to behold."

"So…"

"Wrestling," he said, with remembered satisfaction. "I got pretty good at it too. Wanna see what I remember?"

Lila sat up very straight. "No, thank you, sir."

"Didn't think so. Shoot. Well, that's pretty much the trend for this evening. So anyway, there I was, looking at one more year of the cold shoulder and I finally was desperate enough to try something I thought I'd never do."

"What?"

He smiled, very broadly. "I asked my mom for advice."

Lila blinked at him, then joined him in laughter. "Oh dear, you were hopeless."

"I was not. Just slow. She told me a number of things I should have figured out for myself and then ordered me, ORDERED me, to apologize to that poor girl. In public. Abjectly. Which I did, in the middle of the library at the end of study period. So that everyone could hear. And I did not run out of the building when I was done. I walked, and I kept walking the rest of the day. No running, no matter how much I wanted to."

"Again, wow. That actually shows some class."

"You sound surprised. I'm a little hurt, to be honest."

"I've met some teenage boys in my life. They're generally not synonymous with class. So this good deed did the trick?"

"Yup. I was back in, and the last year was some kind of fun, I'll tell ya."

"I do not want to know."

"God, you're a killjoy. Nothing happened, much, it was that kind of high school, all about grades and rank. Girls had too much sense to waste much time on us guys. College was even more fun, I'll tell you that much."

"Let me repeat, do not want to know."

"Your loss." Lila didn't feel like she'd lost much. The pizza was mostly gone, and somehow they had made it through a very awkward evening. "Now, your turn."

"I don't have any good high school stories."

"No, I meant, whatever it was you wanted to dump on me at the beginning. Tell me your troubles."

Lila was surprised that she had forgotten that. She supposed dinner had been more enjoyable than she expected. She quickly told him the details.

"Price's team, sir. They've supposedly been patrolling the shores between Primordia and Oblivia, keeping the forfex population down. You know how they get out of hand along Northpointe Beach."

"I do indeed. What the hell do you know about indigen management?"

"Somebody told me. Probably some Interceptors. People kill time while we're getting their skells ready, and I'm interested. Refueling is not exactly stimulating work. Anyway, Price's team was supposed to be doing that but I don't think they have been."

"What makes you say that? A crystal ball?"

"Really, sir, would I bother you for no good reason? There's something wrong about their fuel usage. If they really were patrolling where they say they've been patrolling, the burn rate would have been way different. We've been extra careful about this sort of thing ever since, well, ever since the station was accused of fuel theft."

"In other words, you've had a stick up your butt about the whole thing since Lara Mara shut you down."

"That was not our fault, and you know that. But yes, we've been extra extra careful."

"I'll bet. Drain any tanks lately?"

"Yes, it's included that sometimes. And how do you know?"

"Probably some Interceptors. People tell me things when I'm working them over."

"Sir," she said reproachfully. But a quick look at him told her that he was paying close attention. "If we have the time, we'll drain the occasional tank to make sure that the usage matches what's there. Cross it with rising energy mist, and you'll be pleased to hear that we've never come up against an anomaly."

"I'm beside myself."

"Until Price's team. He's got more fuel that he should. Not much, but more. He should have used more, for fighting and maneuvering."

"An easy time, fighting on foot?" suggested Vandham.

"Once or twice, maybe, but not day in and day out. His team doesn't strike me as much for ground combat anyway."

Vandham grunted, indicating that he didn't think too much of that either. "So, what's the panic about it?"

"I finally had the idea to check the flight module lines. The team hasn't been maneuvering or fighting, but they certainly have been flying long distances. The lines show constant, steady usage."

"That burns plenty of fuel. You just said…"

"Long distance, low altitude ocean flight doesn't." She looked at him expectantly.

"Aw shit, you think they haven't been anywhere near Northpointe."

"I think they started there, and just kept going. I tried to analyze the sand off their treads, but I don't know enough to tell you much."

"What, you have a microscope in that shack of yours?"

She shrugged. "All I know is, they haven't been doing what they say they've been doing and they have been going long distances for something else."

"And the panic?"

"Two reasons. Mostly, I know the team that's headed there starting tomorrow. Pathfinders, when it really should be Interceptors. A new bunch, with a loaner as their heavy hitter. Kid named Case."

"She's a baby herself."

"Well, the job isn't that hard, provided that somebody's been keeping up with the population. If they haven't, then it could be really bad."

"So tell them."

"You think I didn't do that? Robert didn't listen. And why should he? I didn't go into the whole Price isn't using fuel thing, because, well, really, it seems wrong to tell everybody."

"You're telling me about it."

"It's your job to know things. And you're good at ignoring unimportant stuff, in case I'm dead wrong. Please, give them a warning. Send some backup. Do something."

"I'll think of something. What's the other reason?"

"Price is lying, and I'm worried. I doubt he's developing a petting zoo in Sylvalum."

"Do not tell me you are asking me to accept a gut feeling."

"A feeling based on a lot of inconsistent facts and efforts to hide the truth. Maybe it is something delightful, but we're running on such slim margins, sir…" Lila stopped short. She didn't want to mention the numbers on BLADE tower, or her speculation as to just what was counting down.

Vandham grunted, noncommittally. "I'll talk to Robert, make sure he's sending enough weight with Case and crew, just in case. Beyond that, I'll think about what you said. That it?"

"Yes, sir. That was all. I really didn't want to wait."

"You could have called me."

"I did. I left a message. You said to meet me here."

"Wait a second. What exactly was your message?"

"That I needed to talk to you, ASAP."

Vandham swore, and not delicately. "I have been set up. God dammit, we've been set up. I am going to wring some necks back at barracks."

"What?"

"Little Miss Lin Lee Koo told me to show up here, because… well, never mind that. That damn brat."

Lila was blushing furiously now.

"I'm going to have to apologize to you. Sorry, Lila, I was way off base at the start."

"It's all right, sir. I enjoyed the pizza."

"And the company? Admit it, it was okay."

"Yes, sir. And the company. Thank you for listening. I'm sorry I took so much of you time."

"Not a problem. If you got any ideas on getting even with Lin, shoot them to me. Need an escort home?"

"No, I'm fine." Even if it killed her, she'd make it home on her own.

"Tough. You're getting one. I'm going your way, and you're taking it."

He'd left her at her shack/office/home. "See ya when I see ya. I'll let you know about anything interesting. Maybe we can have pizza again."

"I'd like that. Good night, Commander."

"Bye, Lila," he called over his shoulder.

Now why was she regretting not giving him a goodnight kiss? Stupid, stupid thought, since it hadn't been a date. Completely out of line. Pointless. Better to focus on the two skells waiting for refueling. Lila went inside to put on some coveralls so she could get a few more hours of work done.

* * *

 **A/n: Another story set in a restaurant. Maybe I shouldn't write when hungry. Meanwhile, the self-control of these two is getting ridiculous.**

 **Written long before "Happy New New Year", as a result of which the "date" on the Ma-non ship somehow occurs both before (Yuyu is alive) and after (this very not-a-date is referenced). I'm not going to fix it, so there. We shall just leave it as "there is something about this planet." Award yourself 2 TP.**

 **Next up: the most unlikely date on Mira happens (well, if you don't count the doomed ship of Gwin/Irina, I so wish, but no). We demands more fluff, and we shall haves it, my precious.**


	11. One Punch KO

**One Punch KO**

 **A/N: Lila and Vandham finally go on a date, sort of, and it is just as weird as you'd expect.**

 **Spoilers to Ch. 5 & Tree Clan, set shortly before Ch. 9. Some violence and swears (this is Vandham, friends). A lot of technical stuff I know little about, please comment and correct anything.**

 **Lila's not Cross, she's not even close, she's an NPC with a helpful blue speech bubble about fuel usage. Same with Marcos & his place. Everything else belongs to the geniuses of MONLITHSOFT.**

* * *

First date, won on technical points.

"Brown, gotta cancel on you today." Vandham's blond head glimmered across the comm device.

It was not quite 0500, and Lila was rubbing sleepy eyes as she stood by Bay 1 of Auxiliary Skell Refueling Substation 1. She'd been awake about 24 hours at this point, with another good 12 to go. Wednesday was hard, and Thursday was murder, even with a quick nap in the very small hours. But it kept the station afloat. The main BLADE hangar did its regular overhaul on Wednesday, so there was always an excess of customers that day, and Lila had staked her reputation on the promise that no one, but no one, would go unfueled if she could help it. Unfueled and uncharged. So her not-quite-official substation ran 24 hours from Wednesday morning into Thursday. Some days, they could take a break as soon as the official BLADE hangar staff opened shop. This was not that kind of day. Thursdays could be profitable, but still murder.

"Commander, sir. That's all right. I can shoot you the inventory reports, even without coffee. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is not okay." Through the comm device's tiny tinny speaker, his rumble sounded even gruffer than usual. "Five teams. We've lost five god dammed teams this week. I'm ripping the schedule to the ground."

"Oh, sir, I didn't realize. I mean, I knew about Whesker and Martina. And Robert."

"Customers of yours?"

"The first two. Robert's solid." She gave a small shrug, acknowledging that her station served a sketchier clientele. Or at least BLADEs that had more credits than planning skills.

"Was solid. Aw, hell, this has been a crap week."

"It's …"

"My fault."

"No, sir. But I know you're taking responsibility. And you will fix it." Her nod was definitive. "I was going to say, it's terrible. Every team is important, even my customers."

"Yeah, well, gotta go and reformat the whole damn Pathfinder division. Those sites are getting harder to find and maintain, but we still need them."

"Wait. Sir." Her face was thoughtful. "Will you be free tonight, around 2000?"

"You asking me out? Today? Because I am not in the mood, woman."

"Please, sir, not that again." Their semi-disastrous not-a-date incident (care of the inventive and incorrigible Miss Koo) was becoming a running joke between them. "But I think I know something you'd like."

"Sure, whatever."

"2000, my station. Eat something first."

"If I'm not dead or up on murder charges, we'll see."

xc2xc2xc2xc2xc2xc2

He sauntered into the station with 2 minutes to spare. One look at his face, his posture, told Lila that she had a very pleased commander on her hands.

"You figured it out," she stated, starting to smile.

"You would not believe who are going to be the Interceptors' new best buddies come Monday. In some cases, tomorrow."

"The Farmer and the Cowman should be friends," sang Lila.

"Come again?"

"It's from a classic musical called _Oklahoma_. Twyleth has been singing bits from it this month."

Vandham grunted.

"My Ma-non tech," explained Lila. "She likes to sing, and she's trying on human music for size."

"I know who she is. I'm just trying to imagine Ma-non show tunes. Naw, not working for me. So where's my surprise?" He examined Lila. The normally grungy tech, usually in coveralls, had cleaned up, now wearing leggings and a short, stretchy skirt in muted maroon. She had on a greyish hoodie, and her hair was in a high pony tail. She could be ready for anything.

She led him out onto the road leading to the commercial district. "Usually, I take the service ring, but I'll let you be my escort, just this once." He pretended not to notice how tightly she had to grip his arm at times, and she pretended that she was actually listening to his talk and not counting breaths to fight off hysteria. One of the many workarounds for her continued agoraphobia, and something he was glad to help with. Things returned to something resembling normalcy at the start of the Commercial district. She kept closer to buildings than was normal, but she released her death grip on his elbow, only to resume it during the short gap before the Industrial section.

When he felt her relax, he started making guesses about their destination. "Native Miran gelato stand."

"I wish."

"Aromatherapy lecture."

"Boring. No."

"Underground rave. Fencing classes. Cat fanciers club. Ma-non poetry slam."

"No, close, no, dear heavens no."

They turned right, past the waste processing area and into a confusing maze of stacks upon stacks of shipping containers. Lila picked her way through them. Vandham spotted some off-market equipment sales, and a few rowdy drunken Ma-non, and other assorted harmless dregs of NLA. Not exactly dangerous territory, but definitely low rent. He was already starting to enjoy this adventure.

They stopped in front of a stack of red containers, emblazoned with the word Axiom. Vandham couldn't spot anything that marked these out from any of their neighbors. But they meant something to Lila. She walked forward and laid her hand on a grimy smear. A vid screen popped up, smaller than a comm device's.

"…"

"Hi. This is Lila Brown. I have a guest."

"Hell, Lila, not more Ma-non again!"

"Stop being like that. No, it's human. He's human."

Vandham leaned close over her shoulder and peered into the screen. "Very." He was pleased to note Lila was not shifting away, even though he could have been nuzzling her ear under different circumstances. Any excuse, any pathetic excuse.

The man on the other side of where ever the screen was coming from made a sound that combined a strangle and a squeak. "That's the Commander! Oh, hell, wait a minute!"

The screen blipped away.

"Why do I feel a Ma-non would be more welcome?"

"Probably the surprise of it. Don't worry, it'll be fine." But her eyes were not certain.

"Worst case, we'll just go for pizza…" he started, and then a door slid open in the side of the container. He hadn't been able to detect the slightest seam in the side of it before, but clearly, now there was a dark opening.

"Like I said, come on." Lila walked through the opening. "Mind the stairs," she warned him.

There were indeed stairs, somehow leading down into where the deck should be. They must be leading below the main platform. Vandham made a note to check on the impact to stability this might make, one he'd be sure to follow up on, but not until tomorrow. First he wanted to see Lila's surprise.

They'd gone down maybe 28 steps when they reached another door, more obvious, and already open. Two men stood blocking it. Vandham recognized the face from the screen, a younger BLADE, a Curator, messy dark hair and a broad nervous face. The other man, darker by three shades, and a good hand shorter than Vandham, was bouncing excitedly as he waited for them to descend. Once they hit the bottom landing, he grabbed Vandham's arm and started shaking his hand enthusiastically.

"Jack!" he barked. "About time you showed up! I thought I was never gonna see ya."

"Marcos," Vandham replied, returning the handshake with equal gusto. "I'm still not sure I am here. Definitely not officially."

"Never knew you to be so dainty about things."

Vandham laughed. "I take it this is your legendary off-hours, off-the-record boxing gym. The one we're thinking of shutting down if we ever find it."

"You'd have to start looking for it first. Yes, this is it." The shorter man flung an arm across Vandham's shoulders, his unusually long reach compensating for the height difference. "Welcome to the Miran Boxing Academy," he stated with pride.

Lila had watched this interchange with narrowed eyes. "You know each other? Of COURSE you know each other. Pffffffft." She made a disgruntled sound and shook her head.

"Yeah, back on the Whale, we went a few rounds, right Jack?"

"You went, I just tried to survive, you vicious bastard."

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I could have set you up with something special, something to really wail on."

"Didn't know I was until a minute ago. Besides, I get to punch out enough fools for work. One of the few perks of the job." More laughter from the two, still none from Lila, but she was smiling.

"Let me give you the grand tour at least," Marcos continued.

Vandham hesitated. Lila shook her head again and grinned. "Run along, have fun. I'll be over in a corner, easing my disappointment with the speed bag."

"Hang on. Lila." Marcos stopped her as she turned to leave. He pointed over to the right wall. "There's a Prone looking for you. Wants a match. I can spare you three rounds, in about an hour or so. Sound good?"

"I'll check, but, yeah, sounds okay." Lila headed off towards what seemed to be some small lockers.

Marcos was intent on showing the whole place to Vandham at double time. "I don't know how she convinced you to come down, but I honestly am glad to see you, boy. I know you can't spare us much time, but I'm really proud of how this thing is coming together. Wasn't much point just for BLADEs, you know, but with all the xenos, I think we're really making something special," Marcos explained as he led Vandham past the various exercise and work areas, all of which surrounded two regulation rings in continual use.

Vandham had noticed a large number of alien guests of NLA, working out in traditional fashion. Mostly Prone males, their blue skins and bulky physiques striking compared to the more usual human fighters. Also several females, working their routines with varying levels of ferocity. What surprised him was a small corner where perhaps a half dozen Ma-non congregated. Their version of rope skipping defied human description, a sort of ritualized one person double-dutch.

"Ma-non? You're kidding me."

"Shhh, shhh, keep it down. I know it's stupid as hell, but we need them to feel just as much a part of this gym as the meatiest Prone."

"God lord, is that a beach ball they're using as a punching bag?" Vandham whispered.

Marcos couldn't stop a grimace. "Ugh, anything harder and they start up whining something fierce. But I gotta admire their dedication. I'm thinking of setting up a scaled down ring, if any of them ever shows an inclination to actually fight. Mostly, I think they're working off pizza related hangovers."

"Next you'll point out your Nopon contenders."

"Not yet, only have a few of them, and they prefer xeno-only night, Monday."

"Humans not welcome, huh."

"Everybody always welcome, just the rings are reserved for Prone that night. I gotta admit, I think that they're placing bets more than working out, but they keep it out of the house, so what can I do? We'll talk," he reassured Vandham. Then he perked up. "Tonight's mixed night, so you'll see some interesting things. Like I said, it's helping settle the differences between the groups. Better than having them pound each other in parking lots, am I right?"

Already, a male Prone and a human were going at each other in the ring closest to the two. The human wore regulation gear, gloves and headgear. The Prone towered over the human, but also wore gloves. It looked ridiculous. Vandham asked about the rules.

"Pretty standard, we don't make many concessions. Shorter rounds, sometimes, and points matter more since it's darn near impossible to knock a mim out. First time one of our guys gets in the ring, they're usually intimidated as hell, but we gotta remember, Prone can get hurt in a way we can't. If our guy knows anything about anything, he or she's gonna be able to give a good fight."

"What's with all the safety gear?"

Marcos laughed. "Can't get too used to going without, right? When everything is back to normal, we're gonna want it. What we really need is to develop some head gear for the Prone, especially the women. The males are dumb enough it probably doesn't matter. And mouth guards, that'll give me nightmares, but I gotta see about it."

They were passing another area, mostly lighter gear, and Vandham spotted Lila wailing snappily away at a speed bag. She had her hoody and skirt off, just wearing a simple green t and her reddish leggings. Ponytail bouncing away, regulation mitts on her hands. He liked the way she was moving, arms shooting out and snapping back tight. Her feet danced in some workout shoes she must have kept here.

Marcos had been saying something, but he'd missed it. He frowned when the other man laughed. "Pay attention, boy."

"I was paying attention."

"Not to me. I said, can I convince you to take on another fighter? I bet any Prone in the place would think it an honor to go a few rounds with you."

"Not a great idea. I'm so out of shape, I'd get hurt against a Ma-non."

"Only if you tripped on 'em. But at least you'll train a little?"

"Yeah, sure, sounds good." Vandham hesistated. "But I don't think I'm suited up for it."

"I can fix it. We got extra sweats, extra gloves." Marcos paused. "Probably can't fit you with shoes. Okay if you go barefoot?"

"I'm good with it. Heavy bag?" Vandham said hopefully.

"The heaviest. And I know just the Prone to help out."

xc2xc2xc2xc2xc2xc2

Damn, this felt good. Each punch, delivered without hesitation, without consideration for consequences, felt better than the last. Vandham gave a grunt of satisfaction. This felt just about perfect. The Prone that Marcos had found as his partner, a young male, echoed his grunt and stabilized the bag. After about ten minutes, they switched, and Vandham admired the youngster's force coming through the leather and sawdust.

During the second set, Marcos wandered past. "Dammit, Jack, what am I always telling you about your feet? When you stand like a rock, you're just about useless. Move them! Follow that bag, and you'll get twice the hits in for half the price. Jesus, you've gotten lazy!" He watched as Vandham started to shuffle a bit, working to match the bag as it swung back and forth.

Marcos stopped him, and demonstrated his point, with steps both quick and independent. Shoot, the man still had talent, nothing had changed. Vandham took a deep breath and tried to switch his attacks to something having more speed and less mass. His accuracy was still pretty good, he was pleased to note. He landed them where he wanted, no question.

Marcos watched him for a few moments more before moving away. His parting comment: "Better. But keep those hands up, Jack. No excuse to leave yourself open, even for a bag."

Vandham was enjoying the whole routine so much, he almost forgot about Lila. Almost, but not really. He kept an eye on the rings, and when a female Prone stepped into the further one, he stopped in the middle of a set to check. Yup, there came Lila, head gear, mouth guard, gloves. He murmured to his partner, thanking him, and wandered casually and fairly quickly to ringside.

There weren't too many other viewers. Most of the gym members were here for their own work, not for observation. A few Prone, one or two humans, and himself. The women bumped gloves and the fight was on.

Even from the start, Vandham wasn't happy about it. The pride he felt at seeing Lila up there couldn't distract him from his unease. The courteous start had been marred by a snarl from the Prone. She started wild, launching straight at Lila and connecting each time, good hits but a little inaccurate. Lila danced back a little, clearly sizing her opponent up. Vandham wasn't sure she had that luxury, because the Prone was hot. Well into the first round, Lila stayed very defensive. Marcos wouldn't have a word to say to her about keeping her gloves up, but it'd be nice if she actually countered for a change. Just as he thought that, she dodged in with a sharp and solid set of three hits, just above the stomach. It pushed the Prone back, made her pause. Then they returned to their roles, Prone swinging fast, Lila blocking most but not all of them.

Someone moved in next to Vandham. "Why helloooo, Commander, about time we saw you here."

Vandham shot a not-completely surprised glance at the man now at his elbow. The ever sociable Mediator, Lara Mara, 185 cm and 80 kilos (90 with armor), looking fashionable in a pristine powder blue sweat suit, and with perfectly matching eye shadow to boot.

"Didn't know you boxed, Mara." He returned his gaze to the fighters.

"I'm multi-faceted. You'd simply never know if you didn't give me a try," chirped Lara Mara. "Besides, some of the views here are spectacular."

"I'm not sure I'm liking this." Vandham was watching the two contestants circle each other in the ring with a frown.

"Oh, don't worry about that little thing. I've watched her a couple times. She really doesn't go all in, mostly a few early hits, then she wears them out. Her blue friend? She may have the advantage in arm length, but her aim leaves something to be desired."

It was true. Lila was all about the defense, blocking the majority of the prone's punches. A few got through, but most of those didn't land solid. Lila tested out one or two swings, seeing what she could land, and those connected surprisingly well. The Prone just kept coming at her, though. With each exchange, she lunged harder at Lila, pushing her back. The blue female was clearly not worn out yet.

The bell rang, and the Prone female threw one last hit, late by a fraction, but clearly late, clipping Lila right in the nose. As the two retreated to their corners, the Prone gave a viscous scream at her opponent.

Mara tut tutted with disapproval. "That girl better watch herself. She'll get bounced and I'd hate to have to mediate should this set of Prone decide to take offence." Jack thought about going to talk to Lila, but she looked too focused to bother. Besides, the break was ending fast.

Second round and Lila was fighting more directly. She was still concentrating on blocking and dodging, but she wasn't dancing back constantly. The pair exchanged blows, the Prone swinging all over, Lila's fewer hits mostly tight and centered. After one double hit, they heard the Prone take a hard breath and saw her pause. Lila danced back a few steps.

"Really, this is more hits than I've ever seen her throw. She's really sharp now. I think this Prone chose the wrong partner."

What happened next was quick and unexpected. The Prone did a kind of sweeping kick at Lila's ankles, knocking the tech flat on her back. The alien rushed the woman…

"Oh lord, that thing's gonna start kicking her," said Vandham with a total lack of cultural sensitivity.

… but Lila had rolled out of the way just as quickly and had bounced to her feet. She gave the Prone a wild smack to the head, more of a slap than a punch, and was rewarded by a shove from the other woman that sent her bouncing onto the ropes by the two men.

"Having fun, yet?" asked Mara.

"Tons," Lila said around her mouthpiece before ducking to the side. The Prone lunged into the space where Lila had been, and Jack got a very good look at her dark and furious eyes, all six of them. Also a mouth like a sea anemone and a rather nice rack. She turned and was after Lila instantly.

"This isn't good," said Mara, and his voice was void of any playfulness. "Something is up with that Prone woman."

An older Prone male had been standing beside them since the start. His height and form overshadowed both Jack and Mara, neither of whom could be accused of being delicate. He had been nodding with approval as the fight had continued, and had shouted some words of encouragement to both fighters. "You see it too. Good! It is good that Prone and humans share culture. Females declaring their readiness for courtship."

"What?!" "What?!" Vandham stared, appalled, while Lara Mara followed his exclamation with a grin of delight.

Vandham managed to sputter. "It's your males that get into trouble, all that crazy fighting crap."

"Yes, our males are excellent at fighting. And we select our mate. But our women must first agree to be courted. Until then, they are free from the burden of attention. They show their readiness by public display of excellence."

"By punching somebody?"

"Ha! That is idea from vile Cave Clan. Tree Clan women choose more wisely: hunting or weaving or a most beautiful dance." He sighed, and Vandham suspected that this prone's mate had done the latter. "Fighting is not our tradition, but young people are trying new ideas, and she is one such." He sighed again, not wistfully, and gestured to a male Prone, skipping rope ferociously in the corner. "It would work better if she slapped clueless male she likes, and not your female, but maybe other Prone watching will persuade her that they are better."

Mara Lara nodded his head with delight. "I was wondering why Lila was fighting so well tonight. Usually she just blocks the whole time, barely a friendly spar, even. I didn't realize she was showing off for the audience."

"Oh, lord, do NOT mention this to her."

"Aw, must you be a spoilsport? Well, I guess I'll leave it to you to explain, then. What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall…"

The male Prone spoke again, measuring both men. "She has many potential mates here. She chose the night well."

Vandham closed his eyes and wished himself well and away, or at least not showing the deep blush he suspected was sweeping his face. Lara Mara's laugh was sharp and loud.

Apparently, the Prone had included a third contestant. Marcos' voice came from behind them. "I'm shutting this down, because that Prone has lost control and Lila's gonna hurt her soon." He made to climb into the ring.

The blue female xeno was still swinging at Lila, or more often, at the spot where Lila had been. She stumbled, almost down, then got up and shot towards Lila, trying to grab her neck. Luckily the gloves made this fairly pointless. Lila broke out of the engagement, paused just a space, then gave one full punch straight to whatever acted as a jaw for Prone, and her opponent hit the mat. Not a good sign. Any fighter paying attention would have blocked it fairly easily. "Stay down!" shouted Lila, dancing back even though her gloves were still up. But you had to give it to the Prone: she was still struggling to her feet, crawling towards Lila.

But by then Marcos was in the ring, standing like a pillar between them. "This is over." To Lila: "You, get out of the ring." To the older male prone: "Maron, you control your citizen."

Vandham followed the small group surrounding Lila as she left the area. Among them he noticed Solan. Just what the hell was the leading tech of the Mimeosome Maintenance Center doing in a place like this? Apparently giving the combatant a thorough reflex check. He had his hands all over Lila, checking her pulse, her eyes, her ribs, shifting her face from side to side. Once she'd gotten a glove off, he made her grip his hand, pushing down on her arm to test its strength. Then the other side. Same to her shoulders, and again a check of her neck, making her tilt it back and forth repeatedly, his hands cupped just below her jawline as she did. Vandham was relieved when he moved to a less handsy examination using his comm device. She posed and turned, as requested, before he finally swiped the screen closed and gave a satisfied nod. He looked at Vandham and shrugged.

"No damage. I'd invite her to come to the center but I know I'd be wasting breath. Luckily her thick headedness came to some good effect tonight." He gave a reproving sniff. "Marcos worries too much. I'm sure the other woman needs more assistance." He said goodnight and stepped quickly away.

Lila was sitting now, her hands still taped up, gloves dangling down from her lap. Vandham looked at her tired and confused face. He wanted to encourage her, make her smile. Instead, he said, "When the hell did you start boxing?"

She didn't smile. "On the boats, sir, back in the day. There's only so much stationary bicycling a girl can stand. It's good for upper body strength."

"There is no way they ever let you fight."

"Not really, no. There weren't that many women around to get into it."

"No one stupid enough. Except you."

"Aw, sir, sparring is all right. I got up to some things on shore, once or twice. Like I said, just sparring. I never came up against something like tonight though." She frowned.

"Yeah, Mara mentioned it." He grabbed a seat next to her, and started taking off the wrappings on one of her hands.

"I can do that, Commander."

"Jack. And I'm doing it now, so shut up." She sat silently, letting him loop the cloth off her knuckles and wrist. Whoever had put it on had done a good job, he noted approvingly. He rubbed her skin as it was exposed, smoothing the marks the wrappings had left. "You did good," he added softly.

He finished with her left hand and reached over to start on her right. The rest of the crowd had drifted off, so he took the opportunity to explain the cultural implications of that night's bout. He was relieved to see her smile, even give a soft laugh.

"So that's why she was so insistent." Her voice dropped and he had to lean in to hear her, her hand still in his. "She wanted me to lose. Asked me directly."

He must have shown something on his face, because Lila continued defensively. "I don't mind. I figured it must be something important. A bet or something."

'You'd throw a match," Vandham said slowly. "For the sake of a bet…"

"Yeah, well, I'm sketchy off hours too. Big surprise." Lila took back her hand and finished unwrapping it. Vandham felt like he'd lost a bet, big time. "Honestly, the Prone don't tend to go in for gambling as a whole. I figured it was something personal. I did ask. She said it wasn't for money, but she didn't explain more. Did not see this coming though." She gave him a small wry smile, and he nodded. She relaxed and started to roll up the wraps. He mirrored her with the other one. "I would've lost on points, no worries, but that woman wanted a KO, I guess. Like I'm gonna stand there and actually let her hurt me."

"Might have taken all night."

"Might have taken all week. She needs more practice on aim. Or glasses."

"Three sets of them." He was rewarded with a small chuckle that instantly was hushed.

Marcos was standing before them, hands on hips and a tremendous frown on his face. They both got to their feet, Lila in a flash, Vandham more deliberately. There was a surrounding murmur of attention that rose and then fell before Marcos spoke. His voice was loud and very public. "Chandler, you are banned from fighting for four weeks. I catch you so much as shadow boxing and you are out."

"Sir, yes, sir," said Lila. Vandham didn't even have to look down. He could sense her feet were at an exact angle. Her back was straight as a ruler.

"It was on you to stop that fight. Your opponent was headed for trouble. It is on us BLADEs to protect everyone. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sir, yes, sir, understood, sir." Her voice matched his for clarity.

Marcos' voice returned to a friendlier level. "You could use more work with the rope anyway. I expect to see a real boost in your footwork by the end of that time."

"Thank you, sir, I will try," she replied.

"And Jack, think about what I said before. I could get you a match any night of the week, especially mixed nights. It's not usually this crazy," he added, shooting one more disapproving look at Lila.

After he'd moved off, all Vandham could think of was to ask, "Chandler?"

"Old nickname. I'll tell you on the way back. I need to put my gear away, and you…" She glanced at his borrowed sweats and bare feet. "I don't think I've ever seen your toes."

"Yeah, regulation number." As she continued to stare, he snapped, "Need to goddamn count them?"

"No, sir, I'm sure they're fine. They look…" She was _still_ looking at his feet, which was suddenly embarrassing. "They look just fine."

"Whatever. See you in 10." He did his best to stomp off, not highly successful, what with bare feet and a lot of floor space given over to mats.

The air outside the gym wasn't much worse or better. One good thing about mims, not too much in the way of sweat. Heat regulation had been solved, and wasn't the dev team proud of that. The two walked home, Lila close to Vandham, her hoodie now tied around her waist, hair still in a perky pony tail.

"Marcos called you BLADE. You're not."

"Everyone's BLADE, Jack, even if we aren't." She glanced up at the tower, where the number had almost reached single digits. A mistake on her part, because the dizziness that followed had her diving into his shoulder and pressing her face against him for a long moment. He waited for the trembling to subside, wondering what might happen if he wrapped both arms around her. Injured pride, probably, and a very stiff walk home.

Time to change the topic. "Chandler, huh. You were going to explain."

She gave herself a bracing shake, but still kept a light hold of his arm. Fine by him. "Old nickname. I got it back on my first boat and it sort of stuck."

"Right, I remember one guy in San Diego called you that."

She smiled. "Yeah, probably Aanderson. He was a bubblehead too."

"Weird crop of critters, you guys. You'd have to be, swimming around in glorified sardine cans. We shoulda brought along more of you."

"Well, we'd have done great on the Whale, but not so much on Mira, I guess. We like bigger teams. Can't go to the head without 30 of us coming along."

He laughed. "So, Chandler. How'd you get it?"

"Right, Chandler. So there I was, my first assignment and the captain was a maniac. Awesome man, crazy brilliant, with an emphasis on crazy. He'd barely run us out into blue water, when he put us through angles and dangles, and if they told us new kids, I must have missed it. Down we went, fast and deep, and straight back up, what a ride. But I was ready. My granddad had warned me, and I had paid attention. My gear was so prepped, my tic tacs didn't even rattle. Of course, I forgot to grab a good hold myself and pitched into a cabinet something fierce. I got a black eye the size of Rhode Island, and wore it for the first two weeks."

"Ouch. Scarlet Letter, on your face." He laughed along with her.

"Yup. I could have made a mint, charging a nickel every time somebody said, 'Oh but you should see the other guy.' And within the first shift, everyone had a comeback too. 'Oh, you should see the other guy.' 'What, the door?' Then it changed to 'What, the ceiling?' Then 'What, the chandelier?' And that was it. I walked into engineering 12 hours later, and they were blasting an old song about chandeliers. Plus, it had a video with some naked singer. End of the line, the name stuck."

"God damn, stuck with a handle that reminded you of how you messed up. Why didn't you ditch it?"

"Not so easy. Besides, it was better that than Shipmate Noob. And much better than other things. Only one thing a dedicated Navy man can do with the last name Brown."

"Gravy." He smiled. It was fun teasing her.

"Yes, that would have been my first guess too."

There was a pause, as they crossed the open area leading to the lower Administrative Area. Once she could breathe again, she continued. "It was a good boat, sir. Captain was completely insane, completely. He'd do all sorts of weird stunts, claimed it was for training or testing. We just thought he'd gone loopy, but we stuck by him, and were glad too. Only about a dozen women on that boat, you can imagine how unpleasant that could get. But he made us safe, made everyone safe. Best boat I've ever been on."

"Until the Whale."

"I'll stick by what I said. That whole thing was bad. And some of the Whale's crew, well…"

"Charley Foxtrot," he said, for the sake of her tender sensibilities.

"I wish that were all," she smiled. "There's been worse than just stupidity." She sighed.

He gave a grunt. Couldn't argue with her there.

She started reminiscing again. "Once, it was a couple months in, we were probably not too far north of Scotland, he had us go down, but way down, then everything was shut off. Fans, pumps, screens. Everything. He even had us kill all the lights. A boat full of breathing in the darkness, and I was trying not to breath. Man, I was a good little sailor. Then, I swear I could hear it. Whales, sir. Calling to each other. I know they say it can't happen, not on modern boats, but I swear I heard them. They'd moved us noobies close to the hull, I hadn't figured out why, and I swear I heard them. It was only that one time."

They had reached her station, standing just on the edge of it, dark and quiet and shut down for the night. She was still gripping his arm, even though the area was safe for her. She tilted her head back, eyes closed tight. "Sometimes, when the wind is right, when the station's really slow and quiet, I think I can hear them, the whales of Mira. They fly, right? And glow?"

"Yeah, the Levitath. Leave them alone, they don't mind you. Hell on flying skells though. Not really whales, just bags of air."

"You can hear them, sometimes, even from here." They stood in silence, listening. Lots of clanging, a rushing from the street, metallic footsteps, nothing more. She sighed, and released his arm. "But not tonight."

He walked with her up to the door of her flimsy shack of an office. He didn't even ask if she was heading home. This was the closest to a home she had, and it seemed to suit her, although in his opinion her couch was sketchy to the extreme. She turned at the door and thanked him nicely for walking her home.

"Gonna get a good night kiss this time?" Vandham teased.

He expected her to look prim, or maybe flustered. Instead, she smiled at him. "Well, I did ask you out, so I suppose, yes." Two could tease.

He blinked, then his face split into a broad grin. "Now you're talking! And one for last time?"

"I don't know…"

"Come on, I have two cheeks, no waiting." He leaned in sideways at her, offering the right side of his face for starters.

She reached up, placing a hand along his jaw, and swiveled his face straight towards her. Then she kissed him full on. He never knew what hit him.

* * *

 **A/N: Quite a lot happens in the next hour. Probably spent discussing fuel ratios. Yeah, that's totally what they're doing next …. I love this couple, and I have run out of shame about it. (If you have another Vandham ship, sail it out there and I will love you too. If I could write any Nagi-Vandham stuff, I would, but I can no more write Nagi's voice than I can look straight at the sun. I've managed it very recently, but only for a few paragraphs at a time.)**

 **Next up: The fluff goes on. Lila wonders if she needs her head examined. Then she stops wondering. The author begins to wonder if this whole thing will need to switch to M in the chapter after that...**


	12. Curiosity and Care

**** Public Service Announcement **  
** The story is switching (click!) to M starting next week. Not a very hard M; indeed, I've seen racier things on daytime soap operas. But still.  
I warned you all that there would be lots of Vandham eventually. Chapters 13 & 14 are where that happens, between paragraphs. Ahem, but still.  
If that is not quite what you need, come back in Ch. 16 for some totally T-rated H.B. trolling. **  
** This has been an emergency message from the Vandham Appreciation Society. **  
** We now return you to your regular broadcast ****

 **Xc2xc2xc2xc2**

 **a/n: Yeah, well, it seems Lila and Vandham did NOT start discussing fuel requests at the end of their date.**

 **Utter fluff, no swears, and a lot of kissing. Eminently skippable. Or just jump to the last section, because Lara Mara. What on earth is he doing there? The closing duo would rule the world if I let them.**

 **Lila's not Cross, just an NPC with wandering hands. Everything else belongs to the hard working geniuses of MONOLITHSOFT. Don't worry, kids, I got this one.**

* * *

… "Come on, I have two cheeks, no waiting." He leaned in sideways at her, offering the right side of his face for starters.

She reached up, placing a hand along his jaw, and swiveled his face straight towards her. Then she kissed him full on. He never knew what hit him.

xc2xc2xc2xc2xc2xc2xc2

Aw, man, this was not what was supposed to be happening. That little voice that always told her to stop, to take care, just where had it gone to? Was it even still on Mira? Certainly it had cleared out of New LA, leaving her with only this man and her own curiosity.

Because she had wondered for so very long what it would be like if she just gave in. What he'd do if she kissed him, touched him, even looked long enough at him. Looking at him was always a pleasure, she'd admitted that to herself long ago. Their meetings were so very professional, always for the good of the station, at least up until now, but they had carried a secret payload of joy as well.

She'd only invited him out tonight because he'd looked so frustrated, so close to despair. The repeated losses and attacks on NLA were wearing him down. It frightened her, and she wanted to help. The gym, weird as it seemed, was full of hope for her. All those different species, playing and fighting together, seemed to prove to her that they had more than a slim chance of success. She wanted to pass some of that feeling along. So she'd told herself. But it was also the thrill of sharing something secret, telling him something about herself that was true. Not a real secret, but an invitation to know her better.

Prone had their way of initiating courtship, humans had their own. She was ashamed she hadn't realized this earlier.

Stupid stupid girl, what was she getting herself into? What was she doing?

Kissing him, apparently, as hard as possible. He'd pulled back slightly when she'd started, which had tipped her balance. He'd caught her waist to keep her from stumbling and she had taken advantage of the tug to lean in even closer. Up on tiptoe to get a better position along his mouth, sliding her hands along his neck. Man, his hair was softer than she'd remembered. She'd touched it once, on the Whale, fleetingly bumping heads in a tight access tube. Now, she wanted to reach up as high as she could and lose her fingers in his hair.

Air. Eventually a person needed air, even if they didn't really. The space between them was cold, only the distance of her arms and his, since she still had her hands on his shoulders, those glorious shoulders, and he still had his hands, well, somewhat lower than exactly her waist by this point.

She just looked, hard, at him, mouth a little open. Nothing scrambling through her head seemed the right thing to say. He was blinking, giving his head a little nod.

Aw, man, what HAD she done? It wasn't too late. All she had to do was give the lightest pressure, a tiny shove, and they could be laughing about this by next week. An experiment that proved some things but nothing of much of importance. Something to admire but not to follow. She'd answered her curiosity, hadn't she?

She didn't move a muscle, just watched him. If she was trembling, well, there was nothing she could do about that. She didn't move away. He nodded again, and slowly leaned towards her, slowly offered her his other cheek. Joy, pure joy, and another chance at madness. A stupid chance she would never end, if she had her choice. She could only smile and take everything that Mira had to offer her.

She'd never punched in her door's key code backwards, blind and with such speed. It was a miracle she freed up one hand to do it, but luckily the careful little voice had not entirely abandoned her.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Half an hour prior, back at the gym, Lara Mara had watched the pair leave. The minute they exited the gym, he'd immediately grabbed his comm device and sent a heartfelt message to Eleonora. "Please, baby girl, I am begging you, on my knees even, do not bother the Commander for, hmmm, shall we say three hours?"

"Lara, don't be ridiculous."

"Two hours then. I have a serious bet going, and I do not want you to ruin it. Him and Lila. I will eat my armor if her station doesn't rock tonight."

The line filled with silence. Then Eleonora gave an amazed laugh. "Well, sugar and sunshine."

"Yessiree! I'm gonna clean up if it goes well tonight." His voice was giddy.

The comm device blazed with Eleonora's brilliant smile. "Don't worry about a thing, Mara. I think I can block any calls for a bit. To either of them. I'll expect a report later, correct?"

"Absolutely. What I can give you is all yours. You know I worship you."

"Same to you, Lara. Good night."

Xcxcxcxcxc

 **a/n: I haven't visited Lila's head for a while, so that was a nice change. Notice the utter lack of swears. She never swears. Never. Someday, that will go into a story, but not in this arc.**

 **Do you realize how hard it was not to let Mara swamp everything? I love that dude like no other. He's grand. I want somebody to write a whole mystery story line for him. So bad. Go! Fly my pretties and make it so. New LA Noir! Make it a thing!**

 **Next up: Jack has a chance to think about things. Including that discussion about fuel requirements he just had with Lila. Repeat: we're switching (click) to M, but it is a tame M, and it contains useful plot.**


	13. Gorgeous

**A/N: Well, that sure was a successful date. Fluffffff! There is plot, really there is.**

 **Set just before Chapter 9, heavy spoilers to Chapter 5. Fluff, swears, and a lack of clothes. The aerobics happen between the paragraphs, so it's a weak M, kids. However, if this is not your cup of tea, I encourage you to come back in (edit) three more chapters. If you wait for (edit) four more chapters, you'll be right in time for some H.B. abuse (edit: I just wrote an extra chapter).**

 **Lila is not Cross, not even close, just an NPC that can't say no. Everything else belongs to the blushing geniuses of MONOLITH SOFT.**

* * *

There is no depth I will not sink to …. God help me.

Jack woke in darkness, lying on the floor of an unknown room. Normally, he'd be on his feet, instantly alert, but his body was strangely reluctant. Almost still in sleep mode. Inert. He waited for a sense of panic, but his mind was also strangely calm and empty.

Where _was_ he? He could swear he was still in New Los Angeles. Every centimeter of the city thrummed with a deeply familiar vibration, the signature of the human technology he knew so well. Hell, he'd helped design some of it, and had built a fair chunk of it. So, he wasn't in some xeno location. Certainly not the Ma-non ship, with its cheerful high-pitched shiver of power. Anyway, their ship was built of large bronze assembly halls and small personal pods, nothing like this room

The room was a little smaller than his own limited living quarters and more cluttered. Sounds were dampened. He could just make out the edges of the door, and he felt a thin carpet under him. Smelled books, that dusty mix of paper and thumbs. And he realized that he wasn't alone.

Lying against him was a soft, warm, curvy person. About this point he realized they were both naked.

Memory flooded his mind, with the brightness of luminous Noctilum flowers, although the scenes had taken place in darkness. How he could remember when he was sure he hadn't been thinking at all was a puzzle.

Hallelujah, he had _finally_ bagged Petty Officer Brown. And about time too. He'd given up just about any thought of it, much less hope, yet here he was. Here they were. Here she was, plastered against his hip, one arm over his chest, fingers arrested in the act of grasping for his shoulder. Her hand was a long way off, more in the region of what would be a heart, except that the kids in mimeosome development had moved that assemblage a little higher and more to the center.

Hot damn.

Jack relaxed on the floor, although in truth he didn't move a muscle from his original relaxed position. He just stopped thinking about getting up. Rather, he'd thought it, decided he had a good hour before he had to be anywhere, and dismissed the question. He slanted a look down at Lila. Still asleep, and if she wasn't smiling, then he really needed to eat more carrots, because he could _feel_ the curve of her lips, the crinkles at the edges of her eyes.

He'd rushed her with an indecent amount of haste. They hadn't made the couch before he'd had her t-shirt off. Hell, they'd barely made it through the door. She was about as quick as he was, tugging at his tank, but he knew it was up to him to show more control. Rolling on the floor was the exact opposite of control.

It'd been damn fine, though.

He'd been hot for her for, what was it, almost 6 years now? The moment he first saw her sweet little ass wiggling backwards from under an engine, he'd felt a very unencumbered appreciation. Not exactly a feeling of desire, but a recognition of something very fine indeed, a fact he'd measured in the same moment he'd calculated that the engine in question was both too heavy and too underpowered to get the job done. Useful things to know, really. Weak engine, nice ass. She'd popped to her feet, a swift movement, no scrambling, cradling a leaking compression chamber assembly with more respect than it deserved in one arm, and holding a wrench with somewhat less respect in the other. She'd looked at him in surprise, then smiled broadly, her warm brown eyes with those ridiculous silver speckles twinkling.

"You must be part of the team that's going to show us what's what." She snorted. "Good luck to that!"

He was still in civvys, having been dumped into this project with no warning. He probably looked like a part time biker, part time bartender, certainly not an officer, but something must have given him away. She'd switched, again as swiftly as before, to attention, although not perfectly since she was hampered by the afore mentioned wrench and machinery. Her face was calm, chin up and eyes straight, but he swore she hadn't quite removed the twinkle. "Sir…" she said with a faint questioning tone.

They'd made their introductions, and she'd even managed a proper salute. He'd been amused at how she'd slung the chamber around to her other arm, and even managed not to smear grease all over her forehead. Of course she'd managed it, just fine. She'd speedily led him to the project manager ( _former_ project manager), saluted again, and evaporated upon dismissal.

There had been no question of developing any interest in her. Above and beyond rules about fraternization and proper respect for subordinates, he knew what a bitch life in this man's armed forces could be for any woman, and he was the last one to cause anyone that sort of grief. Least of all her. That didn't mean he couldn't admire such aspects as were appropriate to admire. Her ability to find lost papers and tools. A deft but firm hand with cylinders and machine treads. The fact she only complained when her arms were already full of gear and she was moving at a quick trot. A tendency to refill the team's coffee jug just because it was empty. Her very neat way of presenting reports, short and sweet, and then throwing it all to hell by cocking her head and dropping an aside that blew any plans to pieces. "By the way, sir, Seaman Cruz is worried but I'm not sure about what." Which meant he spent the rest of the day beating a confession out of said team member about the very clear failure of previously perfect results. Not how he had wanted to spend the day, but it saved them weeks of frustration trying to chase fairy tale findings. And if he occasionally gave her butt a respectful glance, well, he did it at a distance and at a minimum.

The project had wrapped up quickly, to all outside observers a disappointing failure. Gravitational engines would never work to power naval vessels. Seaman Brown had returned to her beloved submarines, and Jack had been returned to the California/Nevada border to make use of the project's real findings. It would never work for something both as big and as small as a maritime craft, but there were definite possibilities if you went larger. Much larger. The size, say, of a small city. Or a White Whale.

He'd forgotten her, completely. Completely untrue. Which is to say, the instant he saw her name in his inbox, he'd laughed at how he'd raced to open the message. She hoped he'd remembered her, blah blah, she was a Petty Officer now (good for her, he wasn't the least surprised), blah blah, could he write her a letter of reference? He'd had to laugh again at his disappointment. What did he want, a confession of unspoken love, or better yet, erotic fantasy? He'd stopped laughing when he realized where she wanted him to send the letter. Right to the center of the White Whale base, something she had no business knowing about and which nonetheless she'd managed to figure out. Of course she had. She clearly didn't know exactly the extent of the project, how they were building a massive ship, capable of extremely long distance space flight, nor why exactly it was so important, but she was sending in her resume cold, in the hopes that she had found something interesting. And she'd somehow matched him with the whole thing. Clever girl, clever, clever girl.

He'd had to bite his tongue for five days before her name came up in a staff meeting. Eleonora had passed around the letter she'd received with some amusement. Nagi was pissed about the breach of security, and half suspicious that Jack was the cause. Jack hadn't spent any time defending himself (he WAS innocent, but he weirdly didn't feel that way). He just pointed out that she was a good resource, and better to have her in than out. Not that this was a problem; if they decided to keep her out, they had nothing to fear. She was solid, and would take a negative answer without a fuss. But that, really, she was a good asset, possibly for the skell team. She'd shown real genius keeping forklifts going, he remembered, and the hydraulics weren't all that different. Okay, hugely different, but she'd catch up.

She'd been accepted, without any further complaint. Lila really was a good match for the endeavor, and Eleonora had been pointing out for weeks that they needed to start pulling in more hands if they had a shot at completing the Whale in time. He'd looked forward to her arrival with something like excitement.

Only, they'd put her in his department. Of _course_ they had. Under his supervision, not exactly directly, he had a ton of staff and a dozen focus teams at that point, but still, he was her superior. Hell and damnation. It was where she'd belonged, best for the project, but it had shot down any ideas of, well, getting to know her a little better. And by better, he meant getting any closer than one meter to her. He would take a bet that that was Nagi's way of, well, punishing him. It felt like punishment sometimes.

This here, however, was no punishment. And definitely closer than a meter. God, this felt good, and she was still sleeping, even snoring a little. Thursdays were always her rough days, and he knew she must be tired. Wednesday tended to be an all-nighter in the refueling station, and then she would power through the next day, fueled by the coffee she reserved only for emergencies. Mostly a tea drinker, he'd learned that much about her during the years on board ship.

She'd almost not made it on board. An echo of the panic he should have felt when waking in a strange room shivered through him. The synch with her mim was buggy, and that meant being bounced from the team. Can't have a motion sick team member. Her case was worse, a sort of total perceptual collapse in open spaces that left her unable to leave the indoors for even the shortest of distances. Not exactly unable, though. She'd covered up the problem for three days, even though he later realized that it must have been like walking in a hurricane or worse every time she'd gone outside.

He'd found her, jackknifed and whimpering, by a small experimental solar array. He'd been watching her since she'd been placed in her mimeosome a few days before. She'd needed a special frame, just like he had, which had made him stupidly pleased. The synchronization team hadn't switched her into some anonymous, identical, perfectly acceptable body. She'd stayed exactly right, curvy and short and nicely tight in certain ways. Again, to be clear, he wasn't going to do a damn thing, but occasionally he let his eyes take a 3 second vacation and he would have missed that. But he'd noticed strain, something off, and wanted to smooth any problems she had.

He hadn't expected the extent of her troubles. They both knew what it meant. Off the team. And he sure as hell knew what that also meant. She probably did too, although the crew wasn't supposed to know and most still didn't. A death sentence, because something very nasty was headed very fast towards Earth. You either made it out on the White Whale or didn't make it at all.

She'd looked straight at him, and he was gutted by how calm and brave and damn honorable she was. She'd take his answer and not whine. But she hadn't given up. That stubborn silvery twinkle was back in her eyes, even though she hadn't been able to focus just a minute before when he'd dumped her on a chair in his office. "Respectfully, sir…"

He'd couldn't swear, even now, holding her and glorying in what had been one of the most excellent evenings of his life, what would have happened if she hadn't spoken up. What should have happened, sure, dismissing her from the project, never saying another word about it, and regretting it forever. What could have happened, that too, going to Nagi and threatening to leave the project himself if she was bounced. It would have worked, and he would have hated himself, a different but equally ugly feeling. Provided she didn't get wind of it, which of course she would have and which would have made the whole thing pointless because he knew she'd have refused, walked straight into the desert, mind storm or no mind storm, never to be seen again. Of course. All of which made it not worth even trying, but he wasn't certain, now less than ever, that he wouldn't have done it anyway.

Especially now. She was sighing slightly, maybe waking up. Dear God, he hoped she was waking up, because he was feeling much more awake, in specific ways, than he had been just a few moments before. He wasn't going to rush her again, but he wasn't going to ignore any opportunities either. He judged he had enough time.

Her voice, all those years ago, carefully clear despite the touch of panic. "Respectfully, sir, the synchronization works fine indoors. And it's only been three days…"

That had been just enough of a lead. He'd snapped at it. Anything to give him time to find something better. He'd dumped her on Alexa and her skeleton skell maintenance crew. Abandoned Lila to the lowest work in the skell hangers, night shift to boot, indoors all the time with never a breath of fresh air. She'd be safe there. He'd figured that if worse came to worse, he could bribe Alexa somehow into ignoring the deadweight he'd tossed at her. Probably with a whopping great engine. But Lila had done brilliantly. Of course she had. Somehow she'd organized the hell out of what had been up to that point the messiest branch of the project, without upsetting the short tempered team leader. And had somehow buttered up Eleonora to boot. Jack had a sinking suspicion that Lila had told the Staff Head the whole truth and gotten her approval to stay. Didn't quite trust him to make the right decision, did she? Well, perhaps she was right in that.

Did she trust him now? He wanted her badly again, and he was hating everything that made control so very very important. He rubbed the top of her head with his chin, very gently.

Lila's brown eyes fluttered open, and she arched her body so she could look straight into his eyes. She pushed herself up from the floor and stretched towards his face, placing a kiss, not in the least shy or uncertain, on his lips. "How did you ever get to be so gorgeous?" she murmured, and smiled. He was sure of it. Hot damn, gorgeous, huh? Her hands were already roving across his chest. "May I be a little greedy?"

"Honey, you may be very, very greedy."

An undetermined time later, but with not a minute to spare, Jack checked his pinging comm device. "Voice only," he growled, because he still was in no condition for anything but select company. Select, greedy company, currently making some very late night coffee in the alcove. While singing "Oh What a Beautiful Morning." He had less than zero interest in whoever was on the other end of the line. "What?" he rapped out.

Eleonora's voice cut in, altogether too chipper. "Oh, just a little emergency, possibly a line on the Lifehold. BLADE Tower, in 10 minutes."

"Right. I'm on it."

"Oh, and Commander," Eleonora's voice said sweetly, "she likes flowers, pink ones."

Commander Vandham swore silently, but with heartfelt passion. God damn bitch know-it-all freak mind reader! She pulled this kind of crap on the rooks all the time. Now she was doing it to him! She'd known exactly where he was, maybe from his comm signal, maybe from the flying monkeys he swore she kept as pets, and he'd have to keep a straight face for God knew how many meetings while she looked on with silent laughter.

As he looked for his boots, he pondered the bigger problem: where the hell was he going to find pink flowers on Mira?

* * *

 **a/n: D'awwww. Eleonora's only trying to help with skittish partners, right? (FYI Gino lost many credits to Mara.)**

 **This is the first piece I ever wrote for XCX, before I'd done Ch. 8, even, because I remember thinking, "Huh, I've got to make up a name for him." A month later, when Vandham said his name during the Battle for New LA (and proved he could count backwards), I lost my …er… composure. Can't even remember what my guess was.**

 **Everything I've written (posted or not) is an excuse for this piece. That's a whole lot of excuses. Love. This. Pair. And, I repeat, you got a different ship? Sail it and I will salute, because I am omnivorous. Except Vandham/HB. OnePirateWolf's Nagi-Vandham fluff festival is the bestest, I can't decide whether to swoon or to squee. (You know I'll read V/HB, but I do have one real exception: if it is set before 2061, keep away from Lin, grrr.)**

 **Also, a quick apology for the AU aspect of the ECP – because it was written so early on, my head-universe had the evacuation project being far more secretive for far longer than in the canon XCX universe. I'm too lazy to fix it myself; suggestions welcome but likely to be ignored, at least for all things Lila. (Oh the retconning I'm going to have to do for Alexa's educational backstory… well, it does mean I have to write another Alexa/Doug story eventually.)**

 **Next up: (edit) Whoops, we have a new chapter, because of timing. PSYCH! It was all a dream.**

 **...**

 **...**

 **...**

(no it wasn't)


	14. Tristan on Mira

**Tristan on Mira**

 **a/n: Lila the OC had just about the best dream ever. Oh, waiiiiiiit ...**

 **Indulgent fluff. Possibly one swear, some innuendo (ya think?). Spoilers to Ch. 5.**

 **All the good stuff belongs to the geniuses of Monolith Soft, and in massive magnificent quantities. Lila is mine, scrabbling in the shadows.**

* * *

She needed to track down the members of the mimesome dev team in charge of special builds and buy them a beer. She needed to buy them a house. She needed to start a movement to give them a ticker tape parade and then put them in charge of restoring the city of New Los Angeles. They might not thank her for giving them the huge task of establishing the colony of possibly the last precious remnants of humanity. But if those kids were in charge? The phrase "we are screwed," so accurate in describing the current situation on Mira, might take on a radically different import. A positive, brilliant, shining meaning. Because she knew, she just knew that she would feel unending optimism about her future if the people that were guiding the ECP were the same ones that had sculpted and programmed Jack's …

The alarm sounded in the early morning light, a mechanical bleeping that faintly resembled an annoyed chicken. Lila Brown slapped it into silence and curled inward on her sofa. She pressed her face into the throw pillow resentfully. It wasn't fair that she had to wake up. She'd just had the first good sleep in weeks, no waking in the small hours. She probably could have slept for another hour. Then her alarm decides _not_ to malfunction. It could at least have let her finish that dream.

Her eyes flew open and she inhaled so deeply, she practically lifted from the sofa. She sat bolt upright, mouth open, but no whisper of air left her lungs. Her breath trembled on her lips, before finally leaving her body in a low, slow gasp.

It hadn't been a dream. Last night, she'd … they'd … Jack had been here!

She lurched to her knees, scanning her office somewhat wildly. It was exactly the same: door, shelves, desk, vid screen, couch. Rug.

Oh mercy, what had she done? It had been so … She waited for her brain to fill in the answer. "Foolish" would work, or "selfish". Or maybe just "wrong". Those words lay sleeping and far away. Right now, all she got was one word: "magnificent". It echoed across her skin.

She slumped and covered her face in her hands. "Magnificent" was pretty accurate when it came to describing Jack Vandham, head to heels. So, yes, she needed to write a nice thank-you note to the mimeosome team. Granted, they'd had a spectacular model to base everything on. Jack's mim frame had been custom designed, matching his original size and shape. No slim and boring body for him. Back on Earth, he'd needed that special model, and to her secret satisfaction, she hadn't been deprived of the occasional view of his massive shoulders and arms and every other drool-worthy aspect. It was reasonable to assume that every part of him had also been replicated, out of aesthetic balance and simplicity. Also, out of fear that the Chief would track them down and kill them.

"Lovely". Another word offered itself. And it really had been lovely. His hands were exactly as strong and gentle as she'd imagined. She'd wondered about them, quite a lot, over time. Once, on the Whale, they'd been working together to replace vent shields. Finicky, frustrating work. The contractor on Earth had used the wrong coating, and the things tended to shatter if you so much as looked at them wrong. She'd watched him strip a tiny but stubborn nut from a panel using only his fingers, then press slowly against the shield until it loosened and fell into his hands. She'd felt a rush of gratitude that he was keeping them all safe. But she was ashamed to admit that she had also felt incredibly jealous of the Whale.

Now she knew. Even as she smiled, she pressed her hands harder against her eyes. The first tears were starting. The word "wrong" was sneaking forward. Because he was too good.

They'd been lying so close, and Lila hadn't been thinking about anything but holding him closer, when he'd done something that had almost killed her. He'd stopped and pushed her away, just a fraction. She couldn't swallow, so frantic and afraid she'd become. If he said he was sorry or that they were making a mistake, she'd probably have to die right there. He'd said her name, then asked her ...

"Say yes, Lila."

Those words, taught to every recruit, she'd learned them too, years ago. You never, NEVER, began an encounter, without getting clear, verbal agreement from your partner. They'd sort of skipped it, out there in the station courtyard. Well, they weren't teenagers, Jack was one three times over, and she was following hard. He actually had jokingly asked, verbally, for that first kiss, although he hadn't asked for the sort of kiss she'd delivered him. The second kiss was agreed to also, but only non-verbally, and everything after that had been completely non-verbal. She wasn't sure she'd managed a real word since they crashed through her office door, almost hitting the floor then and there.

And there they were, on the thread-bare industrial carpet of the station office, him looming over her, her with both hands gripping his shoulders (those amazing shoulders) and he chooses that moment to ask. To make sure. And to let her know, she could say "no" and he'd do what she said. This man, he was going to kill her. He'd break her heart, she knew it, because he was too good.

She hadn't cared anymore. She'd said yes, couldn't say it fast enough, and then her heart had stopped again, as she felt another thing, pushing through her brain and over her lips. She couldn't tell him how she felt about him, he didn't deserve to be burdened with that, but she could ask in turn, let him know how much she valued his respect, confirm how deep her admiration was. "Say yes, Jack."

Then he'd said yes.

Lila rubbed her eyes and stood up from the couch. Well, it had happened, and she couldn't go back. She was somewhat alarmed to realize that she didn't even want to, even knowing what was likely to happen. It had dropped onto her like Jia Mian, the Beloved, starved and relentless, and she wouldn't fight it even if she could.

Her comm device lit up, and she swiped it open reflexively.

"Brown. Lila. You awake?"

Another breath rushed into her lungs, and threatened to never leave. She gulped quickly. "Yes. You?"

"A while now. I wanted to say good morning. Because of leaving so early. Sorry about that."

She shook her head slightly. "It's okay."

He dropped his voice to a gentle rumble. "You okay?"

"Yes. Are you okay?"

"Okay does not even begin to cover it, woman."

"Same here." A smile hid behind her lips. One that was only for him.

"Good. I'll see you as soon as I can, get that?"

"Yes, sir. Have a good day."

She closed the device, only to have it buzz before she could set it down. A _s soon as I close my eyes._ She closed her eyes in turn, and knew exactly what he meant.

It was like gravity. The Ma-non could make it do tricks, but all she could expect was to keep falling, until suddenly she wasn't. Maybe the landing wouldn't kill her. Lila smiled suddenly, without any restraint. Mira was different. Maybe the fall would never end.

* * *

 **a/n: …had sculpted and programmed his hands! That's what I was going for. I don't know what else it it it could be, okay? Lila & swearing: she was dreaming, so I'm not counting it against her; you cannot be held responsible for what your unconscious says. Opinions differ as to that being a swear in the first place. Lila would count it as one, though. **

**Also, for strict accuracy, Vandham said, "Hell, yes."** **Can I mention how much I want the "say yes" call and response to become a thing? It'll show up in another story line later in the spring.**

 **The title: I've read too much medieval poetry. It can work in space, if you change the nouns. (Does this make the ECP King Mark? Will someone please draw a picture of Vandham as Iseult? … Send help.)**

 **Wrote this up because I had a longer, unpublishable piece (apparently fuel invoicing discussions can melt the internet, who knew?) with some otherwise good bits, and also because of timing. If I'm right, the next chapter should hit on Valentines Day, and we need fluff on that day above of all others.**

 **Next up: We return you to your previously scheduled chapter. Date 2.0, same level of fluff, more conversation. Does Jack find pink flowers? (Short version: no.)**


	15. Second Date

**A/N: Lila and Vandham have a very simple second date. Fluffffff!**

 **Just before Ch. 10, and spoilers to at least that. Utter fluff and skippable, or at least skimmable. Swears, lack of clothing, and hints of things that happen between paragraphs. Next chapter is back to T, depending on your head.**

 **Lila's not Cross (thank god), just an NPC with a blue speech bubble and interesting ways of saying thank you. All the wonderful clean stuff belongs to the gentle geniuses of MONOLITH SOFT.**

* * *

Second date's a charm.

It had been five days since Vandham had seen her. Well, five days since he'd held her, which is what counted at the moment. He'd seen her on his comm device, met once even in person. Every night he'd called a sleepy Lila, wishing her a late good night. He'd called every morning, too, even more briefly, because her mornings matched his for earliness and speed. She'd called him too, once with the stupidest of jokes ("Two Prones walk into a bar…"), once with a somewhat panicked and random weather report about a tornado in Outer Oblivia. No one had flagged it, but something about her hysteria touched him.

He'd passed it on to the only team out that way. H.B.'s team, as it happened, rounded out with Rookie "What weather?" Cross and Yelv the Dim, just the group that would completely ignore the warning signs, because what's a little electrical damage when you've got a Purpose, with a capital P. Cocky little freaks, but the weird warning had reached them in time. Vandham had swung round Lila's auxiliary refueling station the next day to ask how'd she'd heard. Apparently her Ma-non tech knew a Prone who, well, had known something about sand, which had come to mind while they were cleaning skell treads. It all came down to connections.

He'd brought her lunch, too. He handed it over, still hot, well, warmish, from the Sunshine Café. He was not prepared for her burst of laughter when she peeked into the bag, but her broad smile told him she was pleased.

"A hot dog," she stated.

"Ketchup, no mustard. Wrong, dead wrong, but your preference, right?"

"I do have my lunch, you know," she said, twisting her head towards the shed of an office she'd established inside a repurposed shipping crate.

"Emergency rations, shelf stable until 2090, and tasting like crap the day they were made."

"The pizza's actually not bad."

"That pizza is a war crime. Ask your xeno tech about it. If you don't want real food, I won't bring you any."

She'd smiled and thanked him, and to prove the point she'd leaned up towards him and planted a kiss by his ear.

Elma had watched with those penetrating light blue eyes of hers. She'd come along, to thank Lila, having been the fourth member of H.B.'s peculiar team. Vandham didn't ask why she hadn't reigned in the wonder triplets earlier, knowing that she had a policy of quietly giving teams as much rope as it took to almost hang themselves. Except for Lin, that child was protected. Also with a capital P and some very effective dual guns. He'd bet that Elma had already casually and silently maneuvered the team near shelter, shelter that the kids had felt so damn lucky to find at the last moment. And all by themselves, too! Vandham worried that someday Elma would strain something, rolling her eyes back in her head like that.

Case in point. "How sweet. I didn't expect you to blush at public displays of affection," she commented dryly as they had returned to the upper administrative district.

Vandham had only grunted. He didn't expect to blush like that either. He didn't explain that Lila had whispered something very explicit by way of thanks while planting the kiss. Yeah, maybe a hot dog had a lot of other interpretations, but honestly, he had not been thinking that. He definitely had started thinking it once Lila had mentioned it, though.

God, how had he lasted this long?

And now they were on their second date, which had been about as lacking in class as he could possibly make it. Him knocking on her door, her opening it, the two of them looking at each other, barely able to say hello before they had sort of fallen in on each other. You'd think neither of them knew more than three or four words of the same language. Clearly didn't care. Someday, he'd do this better. Maybe have an actual bed involved, not just Lila's floor. Not that there was any space for a bed in here. Him, Lila, and a bed, good lord, the thought just about killed him, and he was already sprawled out with her on this ratty old carpet, having done his damndest to make it just a little rattier.

Lila was doing something along his back, it felt like a nuzzle followed by a kiss, on one newly discovered sensitive spot after another. That woman was lighting his skin up like a human FrontierNav. Great, she wanted to play Pathfinder. He'd let her go, until he felt like playing Harrier again.

What the hell was he thinking? He would never, ever be able to sit through a briefing with a straight face again.

"I did this on the White Whale too," she murmured.

"The hell you did. I would have remembered."

"I made it my business to check every centimeter of that ship. Top to bottom." Her toes wiggled against his ankles, and she planted a kiss right at the nape of his neck. Another FS lit up, level 5 mechanical, probably.

"Great. You're calling me a whale."

" _The_ Whale. I shimmied through some weird crawl spaces to do it." She gave a sample wriggle. He rolled over to pin her down and enjoy the wriggle a bit more.

"I could always tell which bulkheads you placed," she whispered up at him. "You skimped on the margins, you know. Not quite enough space."

"We were rushed. Wriggle again."

But she didn't. She merely kissed him, quickly, and smiled. "I loved that ship."

"And I'm the next best thing. Sure you want me and not Nagi?"

"Spare my poor heart, I can't take that much awesome. Besides, everybody knows: the crew belongs to the captain, but the boat belongs to the chief."

Vandham felt a very sudden, very solid punch land somewhere near his heart. God dammit, he was hooked. He didn't feel like asking any more questions, only holding her a little closer. Done. But he still found himself asking. "Why'd ya take so long, then? How many months have we been here?"

"I wanted to avoid disaster. Because there is no way this is going to end well. Oh well." She shrugged. He couldn't tell whether she was teasing, or sad, or glib, or resigned. It made him nervous, and he hated being nervous. Keyed up, yes, but not nervous.

"What the hell makes you say that?"

"You're just so…, well, everything. It just won't last. Sorry."

"Hmph. You are full of it, you know that. You just made it a challenge, Brown. I'm going to enjoy proving you dead wrong. Repeatedly. Slowly. As often as possible."

"I'm rooting for you." She sighed, and after he had kissed her again, he was glad to see warm sparkles in her eyes. This thing, it was not going to be wrecked. She'd change her opinion, and he was going to be the one to do it, too.

Nine days later he was shouting that he wished her dead in front of a small but astonished early morning crowd in Barista Alley. But only shouting, because you do not punch girls.

* * *

 **a/n: Nope. Nothing. I got nothing more. Wait, yes. Happy Valentine's Day!**

 **I get to play with the Switch THIS MONTH whooo! A week early, okay not so impressive, but still….**

 **Next up: Fast forward through the next few dates (I'm still not sure a bed was ever involved, nope, yes, once, he ended up late for a meeting). Lila is all kinds of happy, because she's going to meet Jack. Did I just see her actually _skipping_?**


	16. Planetfall

**Planetfall**

 **a/n: Nothing lasts forever, which isn't to say it won't last for a long time. Keep telling yourself that, and maybe you'll be okay.**

 **Fluff and not fluff. Not much in the way of spoilers. Swears are only suggested, because we're back in Lila's head.**

 **All the good stuff belongs to Monolith Soft, and I wish like anything that I could walk along the corridors of the ECP White Whale before it was destroyed. Just saying, oh geniuses across the sea.**

* * *

Lila was smiling. She couldn't help it. Not a small smile, but a broad, eager, expectant grin. Anyone who saw her would guess the same thing, and it was not something to share with the kiddies. She was going to see Jack, and even if it was only coffee, she'd see him, and that was amazing.

Maybe he'd walk her home. He shouldn't, of course. No extra time for that man, and she wasn't selfish enough to hurt NLA with her wishes. But she could be a little selfish, within reason. If he was going back to the Administrative Area, they might as well go together. Her preferred method of taking the access ring hugging the walls of the city didn't take too many minutes longer than walking through the Commercial District. She liked it because the enclosed ring of the work corridor protected her from any agoraphobia-related problems. Honestly, it was faster for her in the end, no need to calm herself into normalcy after a long walk under a deadly and open sky.

It was pleasant in another, special way: it felt very like walking the smaller workspaces of the Whale. No surprise, since that scrap of ship infrastructure hadn't changed much when the Habitat Unit became the New City of Our Lady the Queen of the Angels. Not much used, except for infrequent maintenance crews, and still featuring a few curious monitoring rooms, abandoned relics now that the job of life support had been delegated to the planet Mira. Strange little artifacts from their lost past. She had loved the Whale, had helped build and tend it, and walking the ring brought her comfort.

She'd shown her favorite nook to Jack, a disused room that had once been dedicated to power readings and atmospheric balancing. She'd wanted to ask him if he thought it could be repurposed for the city, either for boosting the energy transfers to skells out on the Primordia plains, or maybe as a local Frontier Nav site, to help communication. He'd found another hurried purpose for it, once the door was firmly locked. He held her, and growled in her ear, "Say yes." Something that he'd done every time, and his careful respect made her love him even more.

In that room, she could dream that they were still safe in space, still on the White Whale. Wrapped in his arms, wanting only to take one more breath to match his own, and wanting time both to rush and to stand still, she felt the better part of two years of repressed passion flowing through her. She'd adored him for so long, and never said a word, all that time on the Whale. It would have been criminal to do so. Things might be dire in NLA now, but on the Whale it had been a minute to minute battle to keep the ship from failing, at least for the first year, maybe longer. Every action needed to be min-maxed. She hadn't ever admitted her feelings, not even to herself, because it took less energy to pretend a thing wasn't there, rather than fight something impossible. But she'd used him, back then, to keep herself going at times. "The Chief needs this done, so I'll get it done." "The Chief built this relay, so it's not going to fail me."

Why had she waited so long, though? Things had started to stabilize on board by the end. There would have been enough time, if only just. Her smile dimmed. She'd gotten pretty sick from shock six months into the second year of their voyage. It had been her own fault, of course. She'd stuck her nose where it hadn't belonged, and seen … things. She shook her head. It had gotten her scared, and then she'd responded in the most self-destructive way possible. If her personal ministering angels, Gino and Mara and Jack, hadn't cursed, nagged and shouted her into getting better, she probably wouldn't be here. It had taken months, MONTHS!, to get back to looking at things in a way that felt healthy. But it had left a shadow of suspicion and hopelessness that hadn't left her, no matter what any angel told her.

Until two weeks ago, when she'd stepped across the line and kissed Jack. With that step, she became not just a citizen of NLA but a citizen of Mira. She was committed to this world, not because there was no other choice, but because she wanted it to happen.

And she was going to have coffee with him in less than a minute. One more stretch of open space, just an intersection, really, and she'd get to Barista Court and her goal. She focused grimly, for one last dash, and when she hit the brick façade of the business across the street, her grin returned in earnest. She had to keep herself from running along the sidewalk, her fingers skimming the wall. But even the most conservative observer would hesitate to say that she did anything less than whip around the corner.

Jack was waiting for her, and her impossibly large smile managed to grow a bit brighter. He stood up and walked towards her, a wonderful change. Usually he waited, trying to look serious before breaking into a smile just for her.

He was looking very serious, and very large, and Lila had just enough time to slow her steps and start noticing other things before he spoke.

Five minutes later, she relaxed from parade stance as he stormed off in the opposite direction. She'd said almost nothing, only denying the worst of his accusations, once, because she had never, NEVER, helped the Ganglion. Mostly, she'd rigidly taken it, because he'd been right, so very right, on almost everything else. All of her lies and betrayals, the people she'd hurt to reach NLA, the careful timing and casual use she'd made of him, he'd been (almost) absolutely right.

Good thing the access ring wasn't that far away. Even if she had to crawl the first stretch, she might be back at the refueling station before the gossip hit.

* * *

 **a/n: Wasn't going to write this, because it's painful, but then I imagined those two dorks sneaking around the access ring, and, well, here it is. You also know why I had to write more fluff so this wouldn't hit on Valentine's Day. "Tristan" was practicall public service, right?**

 **How sexy would it be if everyone asked, "Say yes," all the time? And then listened and acted accordingly? We need to make this a thing, and before 2056. It may not be real right now, but I've made it canon for my NLA.**

 **Lila's illness is described in "Twitchy Tales of the Whale/3/Broken" and if you were paying attention, you already know the cause, from way back in Ch. 4 "Sleeping Beauty". Don't worry, though. Eleonora will carefully explain it to you in a few more chapters.**

 **Next up: Not dead yet, and the return of Hector. I cannot say how much I enjoy his voice.**

 **AAAaaaaand!**  
 **I get to touch the Switch later this week**  
 **Asdadsfadsfawef!**


	17. Loose Lips Sink Ships

**Loose lips sink ships.**

 **A/N: Well, the love fest between Vandham and Lila is well and ruined, and she's woman enough to take the blame herself. Mostly. Luckily, Lila still has her work to fall back on. Feel the enthusiasm, yeah.**

 **Hurt, injury, slight swears. Set** **almost to Ch. 11, but no real spoilers past Ch. 5.**

 **Everything besides Lila and her station belongs to the geniuses of MONOLITH SOFT. I still can't like H.B. but I certainly loved using his vocabulary.**

* * *

"Get your skell out of my station."

"That isn't any way to treat a customer." H.B. kept a relaxed stance in the face of the Lila's anger.

"Get it out or I will get someone to move it. I'm not touching it. I'm going to avoid even looking at it." The manager of the refueling station moved so her back was to it, like a child ignoring her preschool teacher.

"Nonsense. You aren't going to be that petty."

"Oh, you have no idea how petty I've become. I am almost to the point of not caring about New LA or the tower or anything. Almost, but not quite. That's why I'm telling you, get it out of my station."

H.B. looked at the short technician with surprise. She looked furious, he was used to that, but she also looked sick, ill, exhausted. Bone weary, strange phrase, but it lingered in his brain. He drew on his stores of patience.

"Come now. You've always recognized my superiority, under all that hostility, and I will grant that your station does a reasonable job." He was doing her a kindness, stating that. He'd constantly had to make concessions to her weaknesses, and had often suffered the insubordination of her station crew. But he did enjoy the convenience of not having to explain his plans to the BLADE staff in the official hangar. And it could not be denied that they did a fine, albeit limited, job.

"My station did an excellent job, and, yeah, I recognized your abilities and how very helpful you've been for BLADE. I've made sure that skell was sent out better than others simply to rebuke this weird animosity thing we've got going."

"Rivalry can be corrective."

"Rivalry in this situation is stupid. I've been done with it for a while."

"Then kindly match your actions to your words. I have a mission that really can't be delayed." He gazed at Lila with magnanimous eyes, willing to ignore her little outburst. Really, she could be very emotional at times.

"Things have changed, Hector, so let me make it plain. I cannot be trusted with your skell and that is why I am telling you to move it. For the sake of New LA."

"Acting to delay my return to the fight is helping New LA? Really, that stretches even the most distorted logic." He arched an eyebrow at her, willing her to be reasonable.

She was almost shouting now. Clearly she had edged even further away from acceptable behavior. No wonder she'd never made it as a BLADE. "If I touch your skell, I swear I will curse it. I have no idea if I can keep myself from damaging it. I wish I could say, yes, I will do right by you. But I cannot promise it. I can't even promise I won't do something unknowingly. I don't really care about your safety, get that straight, Hector, but I can't let any BLADE take that extra risk. You are any BLADE. Get it out of my station."

H.B. blinked down on her with shock. "You really would sabotage _my_ skell?"

"No, I don't think I would, actually. But I can't promise, and we can't take that risk. It isn't fair to the rest of New LA. Please, Hector," her voice broke suddenly, pleading, "take it away. Don't …" She cut herself off, face going blank, eyes suspiciously wet but determinedly focused on something very far away and probably nonexistent.

H.B. suddenly said, "I thought he already knew."

Lila snapped her gaze back on him with utter astonishment. H.B. was astonished himself. He had had no intention of telling her his mistake.

She was still looking at him, like he had grown an extra set of eyes, or fluffy cat ears on his head or something. Like she had never seen him before. Well, he certainly felt extraordinary, because for once in his life he had utterly no idea what to say next.

"You honestly didn't know." It wasn't a question, or a condemnation. She was trying the sentence out, to see if it was believable.

H.B. frowned. He really had not realized that Commander Vandham had no inkling of Lila's connections to security and surveillance, both on Earth and Mira, and with Vandham as her particular target. H.B. had just assumed that the man had known the connection and had accepted it as a feature of their embarrassingly public relationship, an unfortunate drawback or possibly a twisted bonus. Honestly, it hadn't taken too much digging to find out her side job on the Whale, interviewing the passengers to check their identities. From there, it was a pretty obvious to see her role in earlier projects on Earth. H.B. had practically spelled it out to Vandham during an argument over proposed security regulations. He'd been attempting to spur the old man towards improving BLADE security, just one more area that needed change, now more than ever, just as so much else about the organization needed to be improved. Perhaps it had been a bit low, even crude, he'd concede that, but he was growing frustrated that his suggestions were constantly ignored. How was he to know that Vandham had been blissfully ignorant, thinking that Lila was actually smitten by his dubious charms? Even without digging, anyone should have been able to see it, H.B. had thought. The woman was far too wily for someone so common. He'd completely underestimated Vandham's fatuity. The Commander had proceeded to grill him about the details, such that he knew or had surmised, before slamming out of the barracks to engage in a very public contretemps with Lila in the middle of Barista Court.

"You didn't know, and you didn't mean to let him know. You never meant to hurt him." She was still trying out the sentences.

Yes and yes and, well, he wasn't sure about the third. Commander Vandham infuriated him, disappointed him, was an obstacle to the greatness that he was sure the city, the colony could achieve. But, no, he wasn't cruel by nature, he didn't like to think so. He wasn't even insensitive. His intention was ever to insure that humanity would survive and improve, both as a whole and individual by individual. Bursting the Commander's little dream like that? It was accidental, but H.B. comforted himself with knowing that it had removed a potential weakness, so it had done the man some good. In the long term. Vandham would thank him for it, eventually. And Lila still had her station.

"Put it in Bay 2, that's the best one. Can you manage the restraints or do I need to show you?" She was heading towards the back of the station, towards the fuel storage.

H.B. looked at her blankly, before he let dismay cover his surprise at her change of heart. "Surely you don't expect me to do that menial task?"

"I'm a little shorthanded, if you haven't noticed." She was already behind the bulk of the equipment, but he thought he heard her add, "And don't call me Shirley."

He had noticed how quiet the station was. Usually, every bay was full, with a skell or two waiting, her crew of rejects bumbling around madly. Part of the charm of visiting the station was the certainty that they would let him jump the queue. A demonstration of his primacy. Today, there had only been one skell refueling, quietly ticking away in the first bay. Only been Lila, sitting idly by her office.

He maneuvered his skell into the framework, and was working on the first set of restraints. Lila came back and had the other three done before he was finished. She pointed to a console located at about the shoulder height of the skell, reachable by ladder. "Punch in code #334829X, then hit the blue button. Wait. You aren't going to Oblivia, right?"

"What business is that of yours?"

She spoke slowly. "If you're headed that way, I'll want to figure a different code. Different fuel ratio. Electrical storms, you know, I hear they're bad today."

He still didn't understand. "No, not Oblivia."

"Great. #334829X," she repeated slowly. "Now, blue button." He felt uncomfortable, having her give him such simple instructions. He started to descend, but she stopped him. "Wait right there, I'll be done in a moment."

She wrestled with a stiff and heavy cable, locking it into the fuel connector with a great sucking click. "Okay, hit the big green button. It should be lit up." He did, feeling foolish, and the skell thrummed as refueling began.

"You can come down now." When he reached the deck, she smiled at him. "Congratulations, Hector. You'll make a fine station attendant."

He had to tamp down the absurd pride he felt at her praise. "I don't believe I asked for such a dismal honor. Why isn't your crew here, doing their proper jobs?"

Her smile vanished. "Gino quit, Ricky's looking for him and not finding him, and Twyleth comes when she wants to. She doesn't want to right now. It's kind of a quiet time. I'm thinking of doing some maintenance, maybe painting something. Anyway, thanks for the help. Saved us a couple of minutes, right?"

"At least I'm not your only customer. You still have some business."

"Yeah, you and whoever else that one belongs to," she said, pointing to the rather clumsy black skell in the first bay.

"You don't know who it is?"

"No. It was in the bay this morning. I didn't even hear it arrive. Note on the front, saying regular refueling, pick up later. No one else has been by."

H.B. didn't know what made him suspicious. Perhaps something about the armor was too crude. Perhaps the ticking sounded different, although Lila hadn't noticed anything so probably not that. But he decided to take a closer look at the skell. He walked around it, slowly. Lila trailed him.

"Do you recognize it?" she asked.

"No, and I don't recognize the type."

Lila had an answer. "Tricked out baby skell. All that oversized black armor? Trying to make it look bigger, only making it look stupid. Still just a plain old baby. I checked the serial number on the center frame, just to be sure. It's listed as scrapped. So it must have been built out of a reclaimed frame. They're using what little they can scavenge for the new BLADEs," she said glumly. "There've been a lot of new BLADEs recently."

H.B. was up the stepladder, peering into the hatch. The visor was smoky, but he thought he could see a bundle in it. A blinking bundle. The blinking of a counter reaching down to a very small number. A river of ice spilled down his spine.

"Look at this," he motioned to her. Something must have been in his tone. Without hesitation, she climbed up beside him, an awkward balancing act, and looked where he had looked. The counter clicked below 100, and kept going.

She was on the deck in an instant. "Get those restraints off your skell, H.B., and move it as soon as you get it clear." She was up and down the second bay already, hitting that big red button you are never supposed to hit, pulling off the cables and tossing them clear, heavy as they were. An alarm began to blare.

"What about this one?" he shouted.

"I don't want to trigger anything." She was racing back to the fuel storage area, slapping the red button on the third bay as she flew past, increasing the racket of the alarm. He could see people noticing across the causeway.

H.B. hesitated. Logic dictated he should get in his skell, get it to safety, perhaps keep others as far away as possible. Instead, he ran after her. She was madly swinging levers and pushing buttons, no, not madly, this was a systematic shutdown done at lightning speed. "How can I help?"

"Get in your skell, H.B.! It'll protect you even if you can't move it!"

"You need to come too."

"I need to get this done! Go!"

H.B. sprinted back to his skell and swung into it. No time to remove the restraints, no time to warn anyone, the timer must be close to complete.

It was already done. The blast ripped sideways across the station even before he was buckled in. As his skell slammed towards the outer city wall, H.B. vaguely spared some admiration for the shape of the charges. Little enough wasted energy, it must have been well designed to direct the blast so nicely. Human? It felt very, well, old school, not resembling the strange and varied explosions that they'd had to deal with on Mira. He hated those, especially those puges that would self-destruct at the last moment, denying him a proper victory.

I'm rambling, he thought with disapproval. The blast was over now, but it was still overwhelmingly loud. His ears were ringing, and everything was blue. First he thought it was his eyes, then he felt a greater horror. They'd blasted straight through the city wall, into the protective crystalline gel. How could he have possibly survived? Worse yet, the city itself was compromised. He struggled to open his hatch, but the gel had solidified and sealed him inside. Mostly solidified, but some was still liquid. He realized that it must be new, fresh. He remembered that there were safety features in the hangar and industrial areas, spraying the area in case of explosions. Well, that had worked nicely, at least he hoped it had worked. The city wall would be undamaged. It would be just as strong as before.

Recovery crews were there, already he could hear them. Had he been knocked out? He didn't like to think he'd lost time, but somehow he must have. Someone was scraping at the edges of his hatch, and within a minute they had pried it open. He needed help to climb out, humiliating. He saw a fire team spraying several flaming shipping containers, and other BLADEs standing outside the area, watching and gesturing.

His legs felt wrong, slightly. One was painful, almost twisted. "Lie down here, we'll get you up to the sick bay shortly," said a woman with a gentle but concerned expression.

"Lila, the station manager, she was behind the office." He was having trouble hearing himself over the ringing in his ears. The pain was really quite extreme, and it was all going a little dark, although he thought he could see 1's and 0's dancing along the edges.

The medic, that must be who she was, looked even more worried. "Please, relax. We've found her signal. We're trying to retrieve her even now."

It wasn't that bad, in the end. He'd needed surprisingly little treatment, and was back on duty within the week. His skell had been damaged even less, which he attributed to his superior choice of armor. Nonetheless, he'd taken the opportunity to add several upgrades, although it had cost him a pretty sum. The refueling station was a complete loss, of course, and reluctantly he'd had to return to getting his skell refueled with all the others in the BLADE hangar. The blast's cause wasn't yet determined, but he had told Lara Mara quite clearly that he wanted to be kept up to date. He shuddered at the memory of the Mediator's arch expression. He did not like that man at all, but for this information he was willing to suffer the interaction. He did learn that Lila had eventually been dug out of the impact gel. To everyone's amazement, she was still alive, if unresponsive. He had to grant that she was a tough little thing. A credit to the hardness of her head, he thought to himself with a note of amusement. If she ever was released from treatment, he supposed he'd have to find a reason to talk to her again, just for the bracing effect of their venomous banter.

* * *

 **A/n: Eldest Child and I recently figured out who was behind the hit, and we informed Mara Lara. It wasn't the Ganglion, why would they care about a filling station? Not Walser the industrialist from Chapter 4?, again, he was venal, not crazy. Not some vigilante bent on reproving New Los Angeles for its failings (don't say a thing! Not one thing! I'll just start crying again). No, it was a result of infighting between two Nopon mafia families, trying to corner the market for Nopon lotto tickets. Gino had been quietly selling them on the side. To their credit, the Nopon thought the station was shut down and empty. Their aim was to remove one point of sale, not any BLADEs. They were very sorry.**

 **Next up: Eleonora does not let her hair down, even when Jack proposes. (Yes, I said Eleonora. Lila is out of action and Eleonora rules.)**


	18. Eleonora

**A/n: Jack needs to talk to Eleonora, privately. Oooooooo!**

 **Shortly after Ch. 10. Hard swears because Vandham's a little stressed, okay? Slight spoilers to some side quests.**

 **All the good stuff belongs to Monolith Soft. Lila (offstage) is mine and feeling pretty poorly.**

* * *

"Hey, Eleonora, buy you a cup of coffee?" His voice was clipped and far from casual, no matter how hard he seemed to be trying.

"Commander, what a lovely offer." Eleonora smiled up at his frowning face. Usually, he tried to look mild. Tried and failed miserably. Today he was a fearsome, glowering force. The smartly dressed blonde paid no attention to all that. "But I'm quite busy, as you can see." She gave an economical wave at the BLADE mission board, lit up green, amber and red, like a hyperactive contestant in a Texas Christmas tree decorating competition. She nodded to the cluster of BLADE team members eagerly reading the listings.

"Lin made some pie," the Commander said.

Clearly she wasn't going to be able to say no. She smiled again, silently recalculating her morning, and scanned the street for a replacement. Ha, there was Kirsty, she'd do. She flagged the woman down. "Kirsty, sweetie, I need to step away for a moment. Won't you keep an eye on things? Oh, and do NOT let Corwin take any assignments up north. None. Home or west, that's what's best." Eleonora giggled harmlessly, but her eyes skewered Kirsty.

"Um, I don't know…"

"Thanks, back in 5." She smiled brilliantly one last time, patted the confused Kirsty on the shoulder, and trotted after Commander Vandham. He'd already crossed the street and was punching the barracks' entrance key coder with far too much vehemence. She slid smoothly by his side just as the door was opening. If this was going to have to happen, better it be done quickly and let her day go back to normal.

By the time they'd sat down, he'd forgotten about the pie and the coffee. He clearly wanted to get this over as fast as possible too. "I got a visit from Chausson yesterday evening."

"Yes, I know. What did our Director General have to say?"

"You know?"

Eleonora wrinkled her nose slightly to keep from laughing. "The mission board IS directly across from the barracks. Not so hard to notice who comes and goes."

"That and the implants you've put in everyone's butts," he growled. She ignored this remark. She'd been ignoring Vandham's remarks for several years now. She looked at him cheerfully and with just a little determined blankness.

He sighed and scrubbed his hair with one hand. "So I'm guessing you know the exact speech he gave me."

"Well, no, of course not."

"But you know."

"Maybe. I don't know. Sometimes he surprises me."

She did not intend to help him. Vandham sighed again, and she noticed how very sad his eyes were. She decided to wait another 30 seconds before saying how busy she was, and pointing out that he must be very busy too.

"He said that Lila had been working for Naval Intelligence from the beginning."

Ah, so the real conversation had finally started. She'd long ago decided not to deny anything, when it all came out. That little love match was never going to be stable, and it was best to have a plan. True, it had been rather sweet to watch while it lasted. The pair had been so awkward and obvious. She'd have managed it better, given a chance. But no one had asked her. Anyway, Vandham deserved better. So, to a lesser extent, did Lila. "And this was a surprise? I believe that's what the big blow up was about."

"So you did hear about that."

"Dear, outposts in eastern Oblivia heard about it. The commercial district is not the place to have a private shouting match, even at six in the morning." Eleonora made a tisk tisk noise.

"I was the only one shouting. She just froze me out. Hasn't said anything besides 'yes, sir', 'no, sir', and 'fuck off and die, sir' since then."

Eleonora looked politely blank. Actually, Eleonora knew for a fact that Lila hadn't said word one to the Commander since that last meeting. Still, it wouldn't do to point out Lila's stubborn silence, nor to mention that Lila wasn't much for obscenities. Lila was far from perfect, but she hadn't adopted a more typical naval vocabulary. A bigger weakness was her tendency to revert to 90% parade stance, 10% mule when things got heated. Also an apparent fondness for bull-necked, mustachioed engineers who possessed all the subtlety and charm of a brick wall. Make that a concrete wall. Would it have killed somebody to beat a little charm into either of them at some point? Charm sometimes worked so much better. Eleonora stayed silent.

"Yeah, right, no big surprise," the concrete wall continued. "Maurice's statement didn't do much for me. He said she'd also found the White Whale project on her own hook. Asked for my reference by luck. Nothing new. She'd told me something like that herself." He sounded like he still needed convincing.

"Not by luck. She's a very intelligent little thing. But, yes, I don't believe she was sent to the project."

"You'd know. IF she wasn't."

There was no need to be obvious. "You were on the White Whale campus, too. You know I was in charge of hiring, Commander," she reminded him, pointedly. "I read the personnel files and I know where they came from. She sent her resume in quite independently. If she hadn't mentioned your name, it would have gone straight into the trash. I wasn't given the least push about her from anyone else."

"My name." He looked, if anything, bleaker and more angry.

Eleonora's five minute window was closing rapidly. She really needed to get back on the concourse. She gave a little shrug. "Well, this is all very interesting, but not exactly new." Actually, it was a little boring. She was almost disappointed in their Director General.

"He said her job was strictly to observe." He laughed a very bitter laugh. "Obviously, that's a lie. He hoped I wouldn't cause any more commotion."

Now that was interesting. Maurice had actually said something almost useful. Not enough, that was typical. That grey, hatchet-faced man always neglected to add enough information to really help a person. Or when it would make himself look better, more human, he'd leave that kind of favorable information out. Why he avoided that, she didn't understand. Perhaps he preferred to be disliked and arcane. She, on the other hand, was useful and cheery to the core of her being.

"Do you know how she ended up on your team?" Eleonora asked. Perhaps he didn't. That might make a largish difference.

"Because she was on the goddammed make for me!" Vandham was finally shouting, his familiar bellow bouncing off of the break room's walls. "From before any of this started! From the moment I set eyes on her in San Diego, she was gunning for me. Set up as a trap. Stupid rookie mistake on her part. Like I'm going to mess with my own team. Nope, not me. What an ass I was. What a waste of effort. It was damn fool honor that stopped it, and if I had known..." Vandham stuttered to a stop, closed his eyes, and said in a voice so thin and strained it seemed impossible to be coming from his oversized frame, "If I'd have known, it would have happened long ago and to hell with it all."

Eleonora smiled again, just as brightly, but not with her eyes. But her voice sounded just as sweet and unconcerned, which was all that mattered, since Vandham still had his eyes closed. And his head in his hands for that matter.

"She was scheduled to work on living quarter designs, of all things. A complete waste, clearly, but I suppose it would have made the, well," Eleonora coughed demurely, "… the social aspects highly suitable. But we all know that was not where she ended up. She asked me to transfer her to the engineering team, did you know that? Her direct request. And I agreed. We really couldn't afford to waste anyone's talents." That was her official line, and she'd stick to it. Eleonora had been in a silent, impotent fury at the time, but she hadn't fought the impossible. "After that, I suppose, honor took over." Eleonora paused, and added cheerfully, "Are we quite sure whose honor it was?"

Vandham looked blearily across the low table at her, like he couldn't quite bring himself to believe it.

"Anyway, I'm sure you can decide on your own how useful all this information is. Many things happened on Earth, and not all of them made it to Mira, and nothing made it here unchanged. Mira is just full of surprises." She left the sentence hang, ready to stand up and leave.

Vandham closed his eyes again, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. Square, satiny, with a hinge. He pushed it across the table towards Eleonora.

"Why, Commander, I didn't know you cared." Eleonora really couldn't keep the laughter from her voice, although she couldn't say she was surprised. Those two had been burning up NLA for weeks, months to be honest, even before it was official, not so much heedless as completely unaware of the notice they were drawing, which made the crash all the more obvious and spectacular. She reached out and flipped the box open. "Oh, but it's lovely. Hmm, miranium, correct? And wherever did you get such a beautiful blue stone?"

"Sylvalum."

"Those deposits are green, if memory serves."

"Not all of them."

Well, her five minutes were long over. She had things to do, BLADES to organize, missions to make sure were cleared by the right teams at the right times. Besides, it wasn't fair on Kirsty. She snapped the box closed and passed it back to the Commander. "It's a lovely ring, but you can probably return it."

"Don't want to. I just got the damn thing yesterday."

"After your little talk with Chaussen?"

"Before." He was staring at the box, lying in his cupped hands, unable to close his fists over the little thing.

Oh, now, that was very interesting. And frustrating. This whole conversation had been unnecessary, although she supposed it might relieve some of Vandham's anguish. Poor soul, he'd fallen hard. So had Lila. That woman had looked somewhat desperate in the days afterwards. Just like when you get a cold after fighting it for weeks, it is always so much more nasty. Better to take to your bed at the first hint. Or never catch it at all.

She stood up, politely, cheerfully, when Vandham spoke one more time. "Am I the biggest goddamn fool on Mira?"

"Pound for pound? Perhaps." Eleonora added sweetly, "I suppose some Prone might give you a run for it. But worst? No."

Suddenly, she was tired of being coy, being sweet, being oblique. She spoke coldly, quickly. "Lila was a good asset, better than we deserved, and stable. Blessedly stable, even when she took some hits. You don't know the kind of rot we've been dealing with since the White Whale took off. Powell, Alex, all that nasty stuff that you've seen is only what's been bubbling to the surface. She scoured that ship for us. Lila did her best by New LA, too, and it was a good effort. Even after your little tiff, she didn't lie down, though heaven knows she looked like death. She used all your insults to our purposes. You would not believe the people who decided to suddenly talk to her, when everyone was half convinced she was working for the Ganglion. If she hadn't been injured, who knows what she might have given us? We should be more grateful, really, instead of complaining about what she didn't do. She never made you because she categorically refused to, and it was either stupidity or a miracle that she held out so long."

Ha, ha, so silly. Eleonora didn't say a word of it, of course she didn't. Not out loud. It would be a foolish indulgence, even if their chances of survival now were so slim as to be pointless. She smiled again, took a deep breath, and said, instead, "Really, I've enjoyed this talk, but I must be going. Perhaps you could discuss this with Lila when she recovers from the blast."

"If she recovers."

"When, dear," said Eleonora, and this time her voice was crisp and without a trace of joking. "It's only been a few days." Vandham looked at her, cradling the ridiculously tiny box in his massive hands, willing it to be true, miserable still, but perhaps not quite so close to despair.

Eleonora nodded, and smiled yet one more of her endless harmless smiles. She turned around smartly and headed for the concourse. She'd said perhaps a bit too much, and she was definitely going to have to manage dear Maurice a bit better, but all in all she was pleased with the results. Vandham, never the easiest of personnel, looked less like he was going to blow something up, BLADE, Ganglion, Tatsu, whatever came up closest.

Eleonora smiled serenely as she returned to her post. Not a minute too soon. Kirsty was losing an argument with Corwin, she standing stiffly with crossed arms and sharp words, he leaning in and poking out his complaints. Clearly, Eleanora had overstayed her 5 minute break. Eleonora made short work of that little problem, relieving the unnerved Kirsty and somehow convincing the obstinate Pathfinder that, of course, he had always wanted to check the western beaches for important information, that his heart had really always wanted to adventure in that direction, that his team alone could find the crucial piece that everyone had overlooked. All the while, she thought, if Lila recovered, no, WHEN the dear girl recovered from the unfortunate blast at the refueling station, they might have a little chat themselves. Maybe Eleonora could shift the little radical element someplace more useful. Why, she might even make a nice replacement for working the missions board. The thought of the grubby and serious brunette, apparently so happy when soaked in machine oil and crawling under the treads of this or that skell, being forced to wear a prim uniform and kicky little heels, gave Eleonora's smile a slightly malicious but not unfamiliar tinge as she turned her gaze to the rest of the waiting crowd.

* * *

 **a/n: Eleonora is either NLA's George Smiley or Alvis, can't decide which. (Alvis. She's Alvis.) I'm sure there are blue crystals somewhere in Sylvalum, and someday I will find them. Until then, I am willing them into existence. Lila told Vandham about finding the Whale in "Twitchy Tales of the Whale/2/Doors". Shameless plug is shameless.**

 **Next up: Well, after XCX Chapter 11, who can bring themselves to care about mere personal betrayal? Vandham has stuff to fix. Do you think he can do it? Do you think he can punch out Heyreddin, the Territorial? Yes, and yes he can. Bonus: Lila explains stuff, even though Jack really is past caring.**


	19. This Changes Things

**A/N: Lila's back on her feet after the fuel depot explosion, and it's about time she got a visitor. This also explains why Vandham never showed up for Lin's feast at the start of Chapter 12.**

 **Fluff and swears, heavy spoilers through Ch. 11. Set right after it. Everything good belongs to the geniuses at MONOLITH SOFT.**

 **XCX PORTANDA EST.**

* * *

Well, if you think about it, this makes a big difference.

"To hell with all this. I'm going to go see Lila." Vandham lunged to his feet, the momentum carrying him straight for the barracks door. His face dared anyone to argue.

"Whoo hoo, go get'em, Tiger," Lin called from the kitchen. She couldn't help but smirk.

"Good luck, sir," said Elma in her calm measured tone. But her eyes had warmed infinitesimally for the first time since her team had returned from Cauldros, bringing with them the precious data that would lead them to the Lifehold.

His bust up with Lila had been weeks ago, a very loud, very public and ugly scene, with him doing most (all) of the shouting. He had made it perfectly clear that if he never laid eyes on her, it wouldn't be a minute too soon. She'd looked pale, and guilty, and venomous, but she hadn't said a damn thing to him, and she'd kept out of his sights from that day on. Not so hard, when circumstances had landed her in the mimeosome repair center for a good couple of weeks. Walking in there to visit a wounded BLADE, to visit that goddamn viper as it turned out, he had to be very careful not to keep walking until he reached the elevator that led to her bay. The techs had gotten one thing right; they'd kept her on a lower level, at the far end, even, well away from anyone else. If he visited her, it was not going to be on accident. He hadn't been ready to unbend, not then.

Should have kept that goddamned traitor in the goddamned basement instead.

Why the hell had he waited? Damn it, he realized that he should have flowers, something. Instead, he was there, empty handed, pounding on the door of shack where she lived, a patched together shipping container on the edge of the ruins of the refueling station. It was supposed to be the office for the station's reconstruction, and he supposed that was what it was, mostly. She had a room sliced off of the tiny space. Just like earlier, she'd gone to ground in a safe hole.

"Commander?"

"Let me in."

"Of course." Lila stepped aside as he pushed past her. She looked worried and a little unhappy to see him. Well, that was better than formally polite. Was she shivering? He hoped to god she was, and that it was because of him.

Vandham looked down on the brown-haired tech. "You heard?"

"Yes, sir. I didn't know."

Which Vandham interpreted quite correctly as meaning that although Lila already knew all the ugly details about the past 24 hours, she hadn't had anything more than suspicions before.

"How much does everyone else know?"

She considered, then gave her report. Lord, how he loved how clear-eyed she'd go when reciting things. "About the theft of the Prog Ares, that's obviously public knowledge. A lot know where it was headed. General opinion is that it is one more case of mim instability. Almost no one knows what else was taken, or why. Mostly they think the Ares was the real target, sir, with bets running 50-50 whether he was delivering it, or going on a suicide run."

"Well, it's done and we've cleaned it up as well as we're going to. Opinions?"

"No, sir."

"Damnit, if you say sir one more time…"

"What would you prefer? Commander?"

"How about Jack? Or gorgeous? Or, I don't know, just not sir?"

She was staring at him with her mouth a little open. He was starting to enjoy this. "Ha! Not expecting that?"

"I'm not sure, …" she said. Without the tag of 'sir'.

"Well, screw that, screw all the Ganglion and their army of worms and parasites, here I am. You gonna forgive me or what?"

"Sir?"

Vandham growled. "Stop with the 'sir'! Do it again and I'll…"

"What, sir?" She still looked stricken, but she just couldn't repress that tiny silver twinkle in her eyes. She probably didn't realize it was there.

"Too clichéd to kiss you?"

Her eyes opened very wide, twinkle suddenly vanished, looking directly at him.

"Are you going to forgive me? We don't have a lot of time."

"You've done nothing, sir, nothing to forgive…" She shook her head steadily, hands wide open, repeating the words earnestly.

"No one ever called me original." He held her shoulders, very gently, and stooped down to place a kiss just on the edge of her lips.

"Sir!" She twisted and pulled, slightly, looking at him almost in shock.

He planted another quick kiss. "Damn it, this is going to take a long time if you keep saying that."

She tilted her head up at him, to give him a long, silent glance, then swiftly reached up, hands around his neck, fingers tracing the edges of his hair, and returned the kiss, in a way that was neither gentle or quick. Not just one kiss, several, ranging from hungry to amazing and back.

"Am I forgiven?" he growled into her neck.

"Yes, of course, always."

"Good." Somehow his arms had wrapped themselves tightly around her. Good for them. He gave her another squeeze, released her, then slumped onto her raggedy couch, even worse than her previous one, pulling her down beside him. Making sure she was wedged cozy right beside him.

She had other ideas. She squirmed so that she could look at him face to face. "I need to apologize to you, sir. Jack," she amended quickly. But he wasn't going to tease her now. "You were right about most things, but I never made you in San Diego. I was there to check on the project, that's it. They needed someone with technical skills to find out why it was going so badly."

"What was the deal with it anyway?"

She blinked, distracted from her confession. "Um, stupid stuff. Industrial espionage. A company was trying to put in patents for the engine. The project leader wasn't giving them much information, but he _was_ delaying results to give them time to submit it."

"Stalling, when we were under a deadline. Literally."

"It was easy to discover. They didn't need an engineer, they needed an accountant. Then you took over and fixed everything."

"And they switched your target to me."

"No! I wasn't there for that." She hesitated, and blushed. "Well, maybe somebody suggested it. But it was stupid right from the start. Even I could tell, looking at your files, worse than pointless, downright harmful. You are not a man to wreck. Never going to happen." Her blush increased. "Especially after I met you."

Jack repressed the feelings that blush gave him. "So you're telling me, you refused a direct order. That's insubordination, woman."

"It wasn't direct. Naval Intelligence only pushed so far." A nice point, but he didn't have grounds to argue.

"And that was it. Until Exodus."

She took a ragged breath. Clearly, this was harder to say than she expected. "I never expected to see you at Project Exodus. The whole thing was really just a wild guess on my part. I expected I'd be wrong, but it was too interesting to ignore, no matter how ridiculous the chances. Once I saw you there, I knew it was something scary and huge and really important, even before I knew the truth."

"So it was just a guess, contacting me beforehand?"

"A calculation. Gravitational engineering is pretty specialized. If it was long range space flight, I figured they might be using that tech, and if they were, someone would probably know you. Besides," she paused and looked guilty, "it was an excuse to make contact. I was curious to see where you were, what you were doing…" Her voice faded away.

Again, the devil in his brain was urging him to stop talking then and there and move on to other things, but he sensed she wanted to tell him more. Worse, those weeks of anger and suspicion still lingered. He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Did they keep you on because of me? Because you could get to me?"

"No, not you. I hope not, at least not at the start. I didn't want that. I really wanted to help the project. If they kept me, it was just generally." She raised her chin and said proudly, "I am an engineer, sir."

He couldn't stop himself. A quick kiss, and a muttered, "So I've noticed, occasionally. Continue."

She blinked several times, then did as he said. "I don't think they kept me for anything specific, not as part of security. At best, I was just a possibility for emergencies. They already had everything covered, at least they thought they did."

"Then it all blew to hell."

"That's what really saved me, in the last weeks or so. I was insurance, something clean from before, if you could ever think of me as clean." She looked at him, misery in her eyes. "It was useful once we launched. We brought a lot of ugliness with us, and we tried to clean it up. I checked things on the ship, you know, end to end."

"You mentioned that once," he growled. He felt her tremble, but she didn't stop her confession.

"Yes, well, I ran the lists of passengers and crew too. Checking for doppelgangers. Seeing if the person in the mimeosome matched the face and name. And voice. That was … bad …"

He could only grunt grimly and pull her closer. After a moment, he said, "No wonder you were so suspicious of people. I didn't know the whole of it until we hit Mira."

She said, surprise in her voice, "Really? You must have suspected something. All those specials you sent down to me, I usually did the lists in order but those I'd do ahead of time. Half of them were fakes."

"I just put it up to people exaggerating their skills in order to get on the project. Dumped them on you because any set of hands is useful for the crap you guys did. ECP didn't tell me the worst of it until I was made Commander." He grunted again.

They fell silent a moment, because it really had been bad. On the Whale, any number of trained specialists had proven to be completely incompetent in their fields. Turns out, shortly before launch dozens of screened candidates had been quietly and ruthlessly replaced by strangers, with mims that duplicated the originals. The ECP hadn't made a fuss about it, even once they'd realized how many passengers were compromised. Not much you could do, really. There was no way to go back, nowhere to go back to, and they desperately needed every body, even the worst of them. He didn't want to think too hard about the methods that must have been used back on Earth, to persuade people to give up their identities. No one would willingly give up their berth on an ark ship.

She swallowed hard. "I checked the defenses of the Lifehold. Broke through it eventually, towards the end. That was … worse…"

"Ah." He'd never imagined this part. He considered apologizing to her, about the gross deception the ECP had felt was necessary. He could explain, maybe make it better. Somehow, he didn't think she'd approve of his breaching security, even at this late date, even to her. Anyway, she was already speaking.

"I wasn't the only one to see what wasn't there. There were signs." She gulped again and pressed herself tighter against him.

He could feel her fighting the urge to melt into him. Might as well help her spill it all. "So what about when we reached Mira?" he prompted.

She gave a soft rueful laugh against his chest. "I'm pretty much useless here. Can't walk ten paces without freaking out, right? So I stayed here and listened. About the only thing I can do is pay attention to rumors around the station. It's not by accident we serve the sketchier BLADEs."

"And report back to…"

"People."

Goddammit, all this drama, and she still wasn't going to tell him everything. He smiled. She didn't need to tell him anything. A spike of cold slid up his spine. The hell she didn't. He had one real question, the same one he'd asked before. "Your job was to report back to 'someone.' Swell. How much of your job was getting to me over coffee?"

She pulled away. If there was guilt on her face, he missed it. "That was not important to anything." She hesitated. Still no guilt, but a little regret. "No, I'll be honest. The Thursday mornings were a way of feeding you information indirectly, weird stuff no one wanted to acknowledge officially. I was supposed to become somebody reliable but unverifiable. I did that. The coffees weren't supposed to be anything more." She took another deep breath. "But I liked them too much," she finished quietly. Finally her face flushed guiltily.

"And you never told me because…?"

"Well, security, of course," she said with surprise. "Also, it was pretty clear there was a leak, there had to be. No one was sure who it was."

He frowned. "You thought it was me?"

For a second, he thought she might laugh. "Don't be silly. But maybe someone close to you."

"Who?"

"Elma, maybe?" Vandham growled. Lila went on in a hurry. "No, not her, not really. But maybe H.B."

Jack considered this. "Huh, I can see that. Clever bastard, thinking he was somehow getting the jump on the enemy..."

"… and getting himself played," she finished his thought for him. "Honestly, I can play him, sometimes."

"And then somebody asked you to make me."

"That's just it. No one ever asked me. I just let it slide closer and closer and then I couldn't stop myself."

"Because I'm so damn gorgeous." The bitterness had finally gotten control of his voice

Her eyes were filling with tears, but she wasn't giving in to them. "Please, Jack, I had to keep doing what I could. I am so so SO sorry." Dammit, she'd been hanging around those fool Ma-non too much. "What else could I do? Please, you need to understand … I had to protect NLA … I had to protect you …"

At that, the bitterness evaporated. He found his breath with effort. "Lila," he cut in.

"Sir?" Habits die hard, so very hard.

"Did you ever want to hurt New LA?"

"No!" she responded sharply, with an instant steel in her spine. If a woman could cuddle at attention, then she was doing it. Her tone was shocked. "Never! I told you. You know that, please say you know that!"

Dammit, he'd known it the moment the accusation had left his mouth, all those weeks ago. Jack closed his eyes for a second and willed away the wave of guilt. Then he looked down at her again. "Did you ever want to hurt me?"

Surprise turned to fervent denial. "Never, never, I never wanted to hurt you, I knew it would be a disaster but I just couldn't stop, I wanted…, I …., I am so sorry…" Her hands fluttered against his chest, too shy to land, yet unable to stay away.

"Call me sir again."

"What?"

Vandham gave an angry growl. "Can't stop when I ask, can't do it on command, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry, I'm a bit overwrought," she replied, a touch pointedly. Still, her hands were now on his chest, to his satisfaction.

"No shit. I'm not having the best day either."

"I suppose you aren't."

Pause.

"Sir."

xcx2xcx2xcx2xcx2xcx2xcx2

[What followed was a detailed if slightly hurried discussion on the redevelopment of the Auxilary Refueling Substation 1.02. If anyone has the nerve to ask.]

xcx2xcx2xcx2xcx2xcx2xcx2

Vandham kept inching towards the door. Well, at least his brain was trying to. His hands kept moving back around Lila, and his mouth kept meeting hers, and well, if she wasn't inching towards the door along with him, he'd still be on the couch with her.

"I've got to go."

"Yes."

"Twenty minutes ago."

"Yes."

"Stop saying that."

"You asked me to, earlier," she whispered against his lips.

"Damn it, cut me a break."

She sighed, and leaned her head against his chest. "Yes." Then she pushed him away, not hard, but clearly. "I will see you when the tower is green."

His turn to say it. "Yeah."

"And not before."

"Maybe before. If I can manage it."

"Not. Before. You have too much to do."

"We'll get it done. If I have to beat every BLADE into a puddle."

"I doubt that will help."

He paused, right at the door. Then he dug around in his front pocket. "I need you to hold on to this." He passed her a small metal object.

"Oh!" For a moment, her eyes were as round as her mouth. Were as round as the ring.

"Keep it safe. We'll talk about it later."

"You should keep it." She darted it back towards him.

"I might lose it. Something might happen."

She looked lost, and clutched the gift to her chest. He liked how it twinkled there, between her breasts. Gave him an excuse to look that way. "If something happens, I won't want it," she said somewhat wildly.

"If it stays safe with you, I won't care either way. If it isn't, well, I'll find out what worms I've got in my head. Probably best if I never find out. So I guess I'll have to make sure the job gets done and fast." His smile gave the lie to his grim words. Confident, even a little excited, and very sure that he'd do his best.

Lila gave him a look full of judgement and the smallest silver twinkle, and then nodded shortly. "I will keep it safe. Do not do something foolish, or I will track you down and kill you." She paused a beat. "Sir."

He was on his way, laughing even as the door closed behind him.

* * *

 **A/n: This story is the official close of this arc. I think we can trust them to figure out all further problems. Lila managed to tell the truth, so so so now I think she can do anything, okay? Jack was patient, same for him. I've loved writing it, and I hope you've enjoyed it too. Thank you for reading. (Incoming shameless plug is shameless.)**

 **As I may have said elsewhere, all the other things I've written came from these two dorks. I was too scared to put it up a year ago, because I LOVE THESE TWO DORKS, so I started practicing on Lin and Tatsu, the sweeties (Homework). Then came the bromantic chaos that Ch. 6 & Alexa's birthday created (Dances with Saltat, Noctilum Picnic, Bromance 1 & 2, Do a Test, Piece of Cake). Filler characters needed personality. Hence, Gino (Twitchy Tales of the Whale), which led to Rosalee & Diego (Tales, Rosalee, Day of the Dead), which led to Case (unnamed in Rosalee, Skell Robbery, much more coming). Once I'd built the station, it needed more staff, and they needed lives. Hence Ricky Bobby and Twyleth (Shield of the Ma-non & Happy New Year). By that time, I was in so deep, it seemed natural to jump to Wolf and Duna (New Faces and Three Sapphire Horns).**

 **I've got no excuse for the utter weirdness that is Warawa (The Golden Nopopotomus). That's all on Monolith Soft. Bless them forever and ever.**

 **HOWEVER … The arc _should_ be done, but there are 3 not quite official stories, things that don't fit or are more head canon than actual story. Explanations  & fluff, explanations & Eleonora, and flufftastic explanations & green-piggy's fun AU. So I'm not marking this as complete just yet.**

 **Next up: EX01 (oh mercy is that not the best track of the OST, er, ahem, yes): Jack has yet another argument with Lila, so tedious.**


	20. Bully

**A/N: Lila and Jack have a talk about their future.**

 **Oblique spoilers to the ending & a late affinity line. (Yelv.) Fluff, swears, and kissing.**

 **Lila's not Cross, just a worried NPC with a blue speech bubble about fuel usage. Everything else belongs to the geniuses of MONOLITH SOFT.**

 **XCX PORTANDA EST!**

* * *

He'd bullied her into it. He wasn't proud of it, but after so many losses, so much denied to him, a man had to draw the line.

Patience would have been the right way to go, of course. She wanted to say yes, he knew it. Little things she said, big things she did, he didn't have to guess. But she was stubborn about saying no. He could have waited, what, a month, a few more weeks even, and she'd have come around.

But his stores of patience were down to nothing. Retraining the BLADE recruits, so many new ones pulled from civilians (or from elsewhere), so many kids switching divisions now that the Lifehold was found, that took almost all he had. Just watching the calisthenics was enough to try a lesser man. The real problem was beating it into them that the main mission of BLADE was no longer about defeating the enemy. The days of blind and wild shooting were over. They needed to focus on sustaining their civilization now. Not that anyone had a consensus about what that should look like. Just deciding how to integrate their new xeno allies was a nightmare, and that was probably the best part of the job. At least, that aspect left him feeling grateful for too many choices, and not terrified that the only choices would end up badly. If there were any choices.

Raw recruits, xenos, and NLA, that just about took care of it. Then, because the gods had decided he deserved an early taste of hell, he only had to wait for his brand new attaché to open his goddamned mouth in order to feel every scrap of patience evaporate. What he had done to deserve H.B., he didn't want to try to figure out. Something monstrous in this and several previous lives. He'd have wiped the deck with that boy a hundred times in the first week, if the bastard didn't come up with something brilliant one time in ten, and something passable more often than that. But at times it was just so damn painful that he ran out of growls and could only stare in silence.

Maybe if he could spend more time with Lila, he could have waited. But he was busy beyond belief, and she was going to get her refueling station reopened if she had to build it single handedly, using popsicle sticks and French fries. The main hangar staff had decided to integrate the area, making it an official part of repairs and refueling. Lila wasn't completely on board, and was determinedly perverting their efforts to build a standard facility. He had officially handed all oversight of that little issue to Eleonora. She, in turn, was charmingly and completely swiveling everyone involved. Vandham was fairly certain that, by the end of the month, the refueling station would be running exactly to Lila's standards, and the hangar staff would not be sure why they were paying for her supplies and raw fuel. And that any of Eleonora's special projects would have a warm and safe job with Lila, no matter what freaky issue followed them like a cloud, with not a murmur of question or complaint from their new supervisor. He still wasn't sure what the real purpose of that station had ever been. Espionage? Protection? Safety valve? It had done such a good job just refueling skells, he hadn't ever considered anything different until it all blew up.

So he couldn't take months bringing her round to his point of view. Because he had no patience, and they'd had no time, and lastly, because he wasn't sure any of them had months to spare. But he tried not to look at that aspect too directly.

Anyway, that left him with only one recourse. He'd had to bully her into agreeing. Trick her, really. He forced her down the path to his way of thinking, after fruitless weeks of more indirect arguments. Fiery, loud, indirect arguments, that ended in a certain enjoyable concordance whenever they actually were in the same room, but, goddammit, not in her giving in to his original demand.

"Just imagine, for instance, what if it were different," he'd started off.

"It isn't, sir. You know that." She was looking more and more sour, every time he brought it up. It was getting so bad, he'd snuck a quick peek to check if she was still wearing his ring. Yup, still twinkling on her finger. Right hand, though. He was going to fix that, tonight.

"Humor me. We're going to get this mess settled, you know that, this is only a temporary delay." The lie rolled off easily. He didn't even need the support of reminding himself that they were doing their damdest to turn it into the truth. "But imagine, for some reason, right now, right here, I was stuck as a mimeosome and you were all safe and human. Would you still be saying no?"

She looked miserable. "Don't joke about that."

"Answer me, woman."

She said, in a strained voice, "Of course not. I wouldn't care."

"And would I hesitate for a second if it was reversed? Because I'm daring you to tell me you think that."

"You'd be wrong. And I would tell you no."

"I'd be right, dammit. Why would it be fine one way, and wrong the other?"

She shook her head. "I'm willing to risk it. You shouldn't have to. You can't promise that we'd be treated the same. Organic versus mimeosome. It could get ugly."

"I can take the hit. Look at me." He tried to look as massive as possible, achieving a frankly impressive display. Prone could take lessons, thank you. He stared into her eyes for several seconds, before saying softly. "I think I could handle a little thing like that."

She shook her head, again, but didn't say anything.

"So," he said, pulling her very close, "if half of it wouldn't stop it, either way, why are you so hung on waiting until both of us are fixed? Both of us in the same boat." His voice dropped lower. "You like boats, right?" He was satisfied to feel her shiver at that.

"I like _you_ , sir." Her voice was muffled, and scared enough that he wanted to hold her forever. Okay, that didn't require patience, not at all.

"You love me, fool. So say yes."

Pause. Sigh. He struggled to keep silent. Another sigh, deep and long and final. Then she replied with an almost dreamy tone. "You'll need to ask. Again. If you're not too tired of doing that." Then she … giggled? "Just be clear what I'm saying yes to."

He was the last thing from tired, but in any case he hadn't bothered, moving directly to celebration. Proving his total lack of patience, but he'd paused long enough to let her say yes and so had he, and that was enough.

Later, on her dumpster of a couch, her tucked close beside him, he admired the blue stone resting on her left hand with satisfaction. She'd agreed, scared though she was. He wasn't as cocky as he'd been pretending, but he'd faced worse things and succeeded. He hoped none of the lies he'd told would turn nasty. Nastier.

She was asleep. Good, she needed it. He could use a nap. Let's do this, he thought, and closed his eyes.

"She didn't love you, back on Earth, not as a human, not like this. Respect and attraction, that was all," said a strange voice beside him. He snapped his eyes open and looked at her. Her eyes were still closed, and he'd swear she was still asleep. But she was whispering to him, very softly but clearly.

"Not even on the Whale, although it was close. So close. It changed when we hit Mira." He waited for her to open her eyes, look at him, but no, they stayed shut, her face still relaxed. "I don't want to go back," she added, in a voice as small as a child's complaint. She cuddled up to him, hiding her face against him.

"Shhhh, shhhhh, I understand," he rumbled back. She fell silent, and after a deep sigh returned to breathing peacefully, clearly asleep. Possibly just as she had been throughout. It gave him the shivers. Stupid him, thinking she didn't know the things she had no business knowing, about the inexplicable independence of their mimeosomes. She'd known there weren't any human bodies for months. Something she'd learned when she'd broken into the Lifehold on the Whale, strictly for security reasons, of course. She'd confessed to him about that already. So why was he surprised she knew the rest? He was glad that he knew the real reason for her hesitation, even though it meant that she was right and he was wrong.

Except she didn't realize, he'd loved her back then, he'd loved her on the Whale, and if it had taken a stupid and potentially genocidal disaster to make this happen for her, well, it had happened. He could take the hit, whatever next week or month or year brought them. Especially since, dammit, it didn't look like they'd ever go back, something she still didn't know. Probably. He fell asleep, not as quietly as he'd wished for, dreaming of fragile rope bridges leading into darkness.

* * *

 **a/n: No, that's not the voice of Mira speaking, that's Lila when she's telling the absolute truth. No wonder it's like something that's never been heard before. Engagement & wedding rings go on the ring finger of the left hand in real Los Angeles; I'm declaring it to be the same in NLA. Notice that this story reflects my favorite head canon, Anti-Organic Redemption *coughmechoncough*.**

 **Three more to go. Wait, I said there were three extra ... nope, wrote a stupid new bit. So we have Eleonora and explanations, stupid bit with guest star Dav Pilkey, and green-piggy's AU inspired fluffpalooza.**

 **EX NO2: Eleonora does what the author can't seem to stop doing: explain stuff. A chapter that should be #3, but spoils everything, so it's here. Excuse me, I have to shave some RP off Telly.**


	21. Viewing the Scorpion

**A/N: Extra Bit 2: Eleonora visits a banged up Lila, back when New Los Angeles was first being established. We're no longer worrying about continuity or sequence from here on out.**

 **Indulgent head canon, full game spoilers as well as J-bodies, not too heavy in the swears department. This really belongs back between Ch2 & 3, but it severely spoils the other chapters. I could write it as an entire flashback, but I've done enough of that.**

 **All mind-bendingly good things belong to MONOLITH SOFT. Gosh, I love Eleonora. Someone get John LeCarre to write her a fanfic!**

* * *

(Day 13 on Mira.)

So the annoyance had survived. Just when Eleonora had started to put her original plan back into action (mercifully that other asset had survived, not that she too couldn't be replaced), this thing crawls into New Los Angeles. Literally. Crawls on all fours.

The blonde administrator looked into the tube containing Lila Brown, one in a row of cylindrical pods dedicatedly restoring the health of their contents. Lila's eyes were closed, her face pale and sour, her hair more than a little draggly. She looked a wreck, even after being scrubbed clean by the Maintenance Center. The subdued lighting wasn't helping much either. The center was dim, with the whisper of pumps and hushed footsteps. Visiting it always reminded Eleonora of an aquarium in a small town zoo, with disappointing displays of sulky fish that never moved past a slow drift.

The team had told Eleonora that Lila'd be fine in a day. Her injuries weren't anything much, especially when compared to the wounded BLADEs pouring into the city. From the moment they'd set foot on Mira, the ECP teams had been attacked by the most outrageous and raging creatures. Even the city itself had come in for its share of attacks, with packs assaulting the gates, a few even managing to rampage inside the city. Lila hadn't been touched by all that. A world full of vicious indigen, and Lila's biggest problems were dehydration and skinned knees.

Well shoot, honey. Days before, Eleonora had passed on the information, oh so gently, that several pods had already been found, detached from the original unit that included Lila, all sadly destroyed. She'd watched carefully and casually as the Commander had grunted and went on his business. He hadn't asked about it to begin with. He wouldn't ever ask, she was fairly certain. She had already started to maneuver Nina closer to him. What was it about that ox and short women with names ending in 'a'? It looked ridiculous, but they seemed to be his type.

And now this. Again. Well, really, if she needed something to remind her not to raise her hopes, not to assume that her expectations were to be met, this was fairly minor. No real danger to New LA.

A technician passed by, glancing at her. Eleonora modified her smile, making it more gentle. She had to be so careful around this one. Probably because she had been so thoroughly mistaken and disappointed at the start. Who sends in a resume, carefully referencing the kind of job she'd had in San Diego, and then point blank refuses to continue that very job? Eleonora had read Lila's file, the real one, well, as real as she could get, and she knew exactly what Lila's role in the gravitational propulsion research project had been, and it had not been as an engineer and it had certainly not been to make coffee. Hideous coffee, she'd had the pleasure of experiencing it on the White Whale campus. Lila'd been eyes and ears, and a certain amount of poison for the original project leader. For Vandham she was supposed to be a very direct amount of honey.

Back then, Eleonora had really wanted something to stick on him. Vandham needed a leash, or better yet, a muzzle. His dedication and loyalty to Nagi were not good enough. People changed. Influence didn't. Even after six years of experience with him, she still wasn't completely convinced. On the Project campus, she'd been eager for something to control him. She had Nagi settled, she had Chaussen's number, she would have loved to have the Commander too.

So she'd been almost as pleased as the man himself to welcome the little scorpion into the fold. Except then Lila had made it very clear that she'd walk away from the project if Eleonora asked anything like that from her. You would think this was the proverbial offer you couldn't refuse. "Hello, the Earth is scheduled for demolition, I've got a ticket for the last train out, but you'll need to keep doing your job, okay?" Nothing that direct, dear heavens, no, not by a light year. All very polite, and then Lila had rejected it clearly if equally obliquely. Eleonora had assumed that the job was merely incomplete in San Diego, a matter of lack of time and focus. Alas, no. Too late to reject the application she had all but publically blessed.

Fine, fine. She'd had Nina even back then, although one look at the two of them, the ox and the scorpion, had pretty much put that idea to bed. They smiled at each other, for goodness sake. Who did Vandham smile at, beside Little Miss Genius, Lin Lee Koo? Perfectly correct, nothing but respectful colleagues, but obviously blocking any other options.

She'd still almost managed to get something out of it. Her smile became more truly serene as she remembered it. Chausson had actually given her the idea. He'd been concerned about reports of bad synchronizations. Worried that there were underlying problems. He'd asked for a quick overview. Eleonora already was well aware of it, and wasn't too put out. The numbers were fairly small, the effect fairly minor, and most could be tweaked until they were acceptable. If they cared to do so. They already were going to need to make some cuts and this was just nature's way of helping the selection. Nature and man.

And woman.

What could happen by bad luck could happen by design. The mimeosome team was all too helpful, almost sickeningly so. Silly kids, their jobs at least were safe. Mostly. Construction and ship design? Rather less so. But the mims would need to be maintained during the whole journey and beyond. To put it mildly. So their eager assistance had been unnecessary if gratifying. Lila's synch was supposed to go spectacularly wrong, and she'd either be out and Nina would be in, or Vandham would have to buy her protection somehow. In which case, Eleonora's help would be the price. Perfect.

She'd waited for the official report. And waited. Days passed, nothing. The reject should have been screaming in the mimeosome wing within hours.

The only hint was a sudden move to the skell department, under Vandham's direction. Perfectly acceptable, but nonetheless sudden. Not the marker of a problem, but still something. She'd decided to wait a week before dropping by, only to be cut off by Lila. Lila had made an appointment to see her, formally. She walked in, her face full of guilt. In the next ten minutes, Lila had explained the whole problem and solution. Had stated that she'd thought about it and decided that she didn't want to be any danger to the project. If Eleonora felt she should leave, she would. At once.

Eleonora's smile slipped, reestablished itself, and then returned, this time a true smile. One born of submission to a completely unreliable world. Lila had very neatly destroyed any use she might be. And the best part of it? Eleonora was half convinced Lila was doing it for exactly the reasons she had said. Out of loyalty to the project and concern that she was a liability. What could you do with someone like that, short of shooting her?

She'd decided to keep Lila around, as a reminder of just how stupid people could be, including herself, and just how much they needed managing. Really, so much managing. Better to start from scratch than rely on the messy connections people brought with them. A much better idea, but not always possible.

Besides, Vandham hadn't known about their little conversation, and she could always try to approach him directly, much though she'd prefer to avoid it.

Eleonora had to admit, it wasn't actually a loss. Lila was as competent a team member as most others, even if she was limited. Actually, once they were on the Whale, Lila had been extraordinary. Eleonora had to grant her that. Her heart almost softened, remembering. If Eleonora gave the least hint, Lila tore the problem up. Too well sometimes. For example, she was NOT actually supposed to reach the Lifehold. No one was. But she had tested the defenses until she had really done it, and then spent the next few months looking as nauseous as a drunken pig on a roller coaster (now that was a nice image for you). As scared as a rat in a research lab. Eleonora was afraid that Lila had broken and would need to be put in an air lock for permanent safe keeping, but no, she'd smoothed out. Had loyally given a weekly report, and had swallowed Eleonora's weekly reassurances greedily. Never stopped working, just with a certain feverish twitchiness and increased silence.

No one else noticed, since the dear little scorpion had been one of the many crewmembers that had gone all silent and twitchy after the destruction of Earth anyway. Not even Vandham noticed. Well, he himself had gone as skittish as his bulldozer nature would allow, who'd have suspected he'd take it as hard as he had. Two very unlike peas in a pod, those two.

Eleonora officially gave up, released all plans to the wind, and decided to wait and see. She'd still love to have a hold on Vandham, but maybe his loyalty to Nagi would be enough. That and professional pride. This city was something he was building, and he wouldn't want to endanger it.

As it was, she'd spent as much time as she dared away for the Mission Board. The other projects at the Mim Center were far from ready and didn't require her attention. She headed out towards the light and bustle of the administrative corridor. Her most cheery, hopeful smile reestablished itself. At the very least, she'd be highly disappointed in herself if she didn't manage some kind of bounce when she passed the news on to the Commander. Nothing ever really was wasted.

* * *

 **a/n: I'm getting farther and farther away from the main story of Lila & Jack, but the next one, wow, I went WAY off the regular story. I was doing bad math in my head and realized that, if we're thinking 2017, it means that Jack is about 10 years old (depending on how we count aging & birthdays for mimeosomes), and Lila is 4 or 5, on a good day. I started to wonder what they were like. Why? Why?! We're here for the giant robots, not this lunacy! Well, I'll give you robots, see if I don't. Therefore, let me present...**

 **Next up: EX03: Back to the present, but with giant robots.**

 **Warning: EX04 is totally off-canon, and based off the AU of Green-Piggy's story, "I see signs now [all the time]". Go read that and now, because it is hilarious (L finds a soul mate, oh help me) and full of feels (Dougy! send help).**


	22. Robots Are Awesome

**Robots Are Awesome**

 **a/n: Present day, somewhere in the US. Somebody's having a bad day in elementary school. Robots remain awesome in any situation.**

 **Swears. I can make them 10 years old, but I can't stop the swears.**

 **Why? Why? Why? I can't blame the tiniest bit of this on Monolith Soft, which owns the otherwise interesting world of XCX and those that walk within it.**

* * *

"Kid, take your thumb out of your mouth. I can't understand you."

The kid didn't do that. But she did enunciate more clearly. "I don't like mice."

"Well, too bad. This book's got mice."

"Don't like 'em. They squeak. By my bed. At night."

"Look, this is the book your teacher gave us, so I'm gonna read it anyway."

The kid puffed out her lower lip. Great, a crybaby. Buddy Time already sucked hard enough, but this was the worst. He was sick of this kid already, and he'd only been stuck with her for a few minutes. She didn't start crying. As he opened the book, she covered her ears with her hands instead. She had to twist her head a little, because she never took her thumb out of her mouth.

So maybe not a crybaby. Still just a baby, and a girl baby to boot. It wasn't fair. He looked across the kindergarten classroom, where he was sure his friend Lamonte was having such a better time with little Nicky. Lucky him. Up until then, they'd been a team, reading to that rugrat. There had been more 5th graders than kindergartners, so some kids got to team up. He'd been the lucky one back then.

Now he was stuck with this new girl. Her hair was ugly, sticking in seven directions at once, like she'd taken scissors to it. Probably had, because God knows kindergartners were dumb. He relished the silent swear. God knows girls are dumb too. Most of them. God knows he was happier working with Lamonte and Nicky, because even if they had to read baby books, at least they were about trucks and junk.

She'd sucked her thumb the whole time. That probably made it about the only clean part of her. Her face was grimy from lunch, and her knees were almost grey from the playground. She needed to wipe her nose. God, if a kid like him noticed the dirt on her, she needed a wash bad.

He glared down at her. She didn't notice, because she'd jammed her eyes closed too. Guess she wasn't joking about not liking mice. He heaved an exaggerated sigh and flopped back against the tiny chair, shoving the book across the table. The kindergarten teacher moved over to them.

"Is there a problem, Jeff?"

Yeah, stupid, because that's still not my name. JF are my initials, dummy. But he didn't say that. "She doesn't want to read that book."

The kid mumbled something. He looked down at her. She was peering at him, not the teacher.

"Sweetie, we don't suck our thumbs in kindergarten. You're a big girl now, okay?" The teacher reached out and pulled gently at the little girl's fist.

God, _his_ kindergarten teacher hadn't been this stupid. Even he knew that was going to be trouble. If she got it loose, the kid would start screaming, he was sure of it. But that wasn't gonna happen. The teacher could probably pull that little girl's hand high into the air, and the kid would still dangle from her own thumb like a fish on hook. He snorted at the image.

"Something funny, Jeff? Because it's not nice to tease."

And it's so goddamn nice to pull at someone's hand? But he didn't say that either. "She says she doesn't like mice."

The kid mumbled something, a little desperately, because the teacher was still pulling while she was struggling to keep her thumb in her mouth.

"She says they squeak and that bugs her. Because she has some by her bed, I guess."

"Oh." The teacher stood up and stepped a pace back. No biggie. Maybe the teacher didn't like mice. He'd wanted a hamster, once, or a guinea pig, instead of his sister's dumb old cat. Or a dog, that would be nice. But not so much now, because he was so close to being in middle school. Did guys want dogs in middle school? Maybe a little. Maybe he could convince his mom he was old enough to take care of a dog. Not a big one, but not one of those stupid tiny ones. A kind of big one, that'd be best. He could train it to do tricks.

"Jeff, pay attention. I said, did she say what she likes?"

Goddamn it, he'd been thinking about dogs, okay? How would he know? He'd never seen this kid before. She was new to the school, wasn't she? Hadn't been there last Buddy Time, right? He ducked his head and made his dumbest face.

The kid mumbled something. "Rwww-wahs."

"Sweetie, I can't understand you when you have your thumb in your mouth. It's not big girl behavior."

Stupid teacher, because this kid was the exact opposite of a big anything. Except big pain. Great big pain. Mighty big pain. He sat up with inspiration. "ROBOTS! I got it!" He shoved his chair back, admiring for a second how it had slid almost into the back of Hana's chair, and stormed over to the reading corner. "Move it!" he ordered a classmate. There they were, at least the first five of them. Ricky Ricotta's Mighty Robot books. He'd noticed them on the shelves, back when he wasn't being punished by being this kid's Buddy and had a hope of reading them to Nicky. Except Nicky only liked trucks.

They were stupid easy, but he remembered liking them back when he was little. He grabbed the first one and waved it at the teacher. She was giving a I'm-so-disappointed-and-a-little-ready-to-be-angry look at him from where he'd been sitting. The bratty kid had disappeared.

Nope, no such luck. She was right next to him, thumb still stuck in her face. There was a jittery look in her eyes as she tried to examine the book bouncing in his hand.

He started explaining loudly. "See. It's got mice but they don't squeak and it's got robots, like you said, _right_?" He glared at the kid, only just barely keeping himself from pinching her. Because you don't pinch girls. (Except sisters. Those don't count.)

The kid was breathing hard, but she frowned and nodded. She popped her thumb out, wrinkly and shining pink, and said sharply, "I don't like mice." Then jammed it back in.

He argued with growing exasperation, "These aren't mice mice, they're cartoon walking around mice, in clothes and junk. Like Mickey Mouse but not so dumb. No squeaking."

The teacher flapped her hands. "Very nice, but please be quiet and sit down. Now. The other children need to concentrate."

He looked down at the kid. She looked up at him. They moved back to their seats.

"Horsies. I like horsies," the kid whispered fairly clearly around her thumb.

"Well, I heard robots," he whispered back.

The kid made her own squeaking noises with her thumb, while he skimmed the start of the book. Yeah, it was pretty good for being such a baby book. Finally, she whispered, a little less clearly, "Robots are okay."

"Robots are goddammed awesome."

From off in another corner, the teacher snapped, fake sweetly. "Jeff, concentrate please."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. He could bring out the manners when he had to, especially when he was worried he'd get in real trouble. You weren't supposed to swear in front of little kids.

He started to read out loud, and did his best not to notice how the brat kept moving closer and closer to the page to follow along. They got through almost half of it before he realized the other kids were lining up.

"Jeff, dear, your class needs to leave. Now, Betsy, sweetie, I'm very proud of you for sitting and listening so nicely. Did you like the book?"

He closed it gladly. Well, maybe with a little reluctance, because the evil mad scientist had just made the classroom lizard grow and stuff was about to get wrecked, if he remembered right. He had no idea if she'd liked it, because he'd kind of gotten into it and ignored her. "It was okay, right?"

She removed her thumb with a loud pop. "Robots are awesome." And twinkled up at him, big brown eyes with flecks of silver, before putting her thumb back in her mouth with a steady look that hid a lot of satisfaction and a little mischief.

Goddammed little brat, she could have gotten him in SO much trouble, and she knew it. But she hadn't, which meant that he was stuck with her, and no complaining. Well, at least she had okay taste in books.

Six weeks later, they'd gotten through the first two books and the start of the third. Then he'd arrived at Buddy Time, only to learn her mom had moved them away somewhere. Never saw her again. Dumb kid, thinking horses were better than robots.

* * *

 **a/n:** **I was doing rough calculations and realized Vandham starts 6** **th** **grade in Fall 2017, by one way of reckoning. Then this story arrived in my brain. So hold on, all you middle school teachers. More to the point, thank you thank you for educating my little angels (and I apologize for everything I did as a kid).**

 **Dav Pilkey, author of Ricky Ricotta, is THE MAN. Youngest Child can read because of the power of potty humor in Super Diaper Baby. Nothing like puzzling over the letters p, o, and o, until you realize that the word is the thing. Proved it by excitedly reading the book loud enough for the entire household to hear. AT 5AM. No more sleep, all swallowed in joy, and we went to the 24-hour donut shop to celebrate.**

 **If you read the first Ricky Ricotta, you learn that Ricky wants a friend above all things. He ends up getting a giant robot. All of which fits little Betsy so bad it's not even funny (her name gets legally changed shortly after this story, do I really have to say to what?). (Yes, there is a whole backstory to support that. It may sneak in to other pieces. Because, yes, there is another arc after this set.)**

 **Next up: Jack meets Lila in San Diego circa 2048 and we learn what the 'F' stands for. Built with true gratitude using the AU of green-piggy's story, "I see signs now [all the time]". Go read that and I mean right now, because it is hilarious and full of feels. I'd link it, but Fan fiction won't even let me do that. So, good luck searching the XCX stories, back to April 2016.**


	23. First Contact (a Signs Tribute)

**First Contact (A "Signs" tribute)**

 **A/N: The last of the epilogues. How Jack and Lila might have met, in San Diego, given a very different universe.**

 **Built totally on the brilliant mechanic by green-piggy, and inspired by their even more brilliant story using it. Go! Read it! Very funny, full of feels, and they nailed the real power of Cross, as well as the weirdness of L. "I See Signs Now (All the Time)." Look back to April 2016 in the XCX stories. This story can wait, it can so so so wait, right? I salute them.**

 **Indulgent fluff, swears, libido, and a lack of spoilers. Set pre-game by about 6? 7? years. The real stuff belongs to the geniuses of MONOLITH SOFT, and the AU is all green-piggy, so very good.**

* * *

Back on Earth, back before all the horror, Jack meets Lila. To say there is a spark is boring. To say there is gasoline slopped all over some dry straw and there is a spark is more accurate. Because….

" **From the age of thirteen, every human has two names appear on their wrists; one for their worst enemy, and one for their soulmate. Needless to say, it isn't always that simple […]"** _ **I See Signs Now (All the Time)**_ **, green-piggy.**

* * *

Jack sat in his new and tiny office, stewing. He did not have time for this. At the same time, you did not ignore having your soulmate land in your lap.

Wrong image. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Of all the gin joints in all the world," he muttered, not completely accurately. Here he was, not on the job four hours, and he already was in deep for something that had nothing to do with the proper reason for being here.

He's known there'd be trouble, from the moment he laid eyes on her cute little butt. And then she had smiled at him and he'd gone down hard. But only for a second, because he was not a pig and he was not stupid. He'd keep it under control, ignore it even if it killed him, and walk away. You do not mess with a subordinate, done. She'd be fine. Safe. Funny, just that one smile and he'd dedicated a large part of his soul to keeping her safe.

That was before he'd learned her name. Now he was in a whole new world of hurt, and he honestly had no idea what to do.

He flicked a resentful look at his wrist. The khaki patch commonly worn in the military, the one that matched no skin color on Earth as far as he could tell, lay innocently as it always did. The trouble was underneath.

Her name. The name of his soulmate, as determined by whatever put it there since he was 13. Lila.

Well, maybe not _her_ name. Maybe it wasn't her fault that he was in such a stew. Strike that. She had nothing to do with his being completely flummoxed (yeah, that was a word for you, and one you could say in church. Not many of those floating around in his head right at the moment). The point was, maybe her name and his wrist had no connection.

And maybe she hadn't smiled at him and her eyes hadn't filled with silver darts that had flown out and straight into his heart. Maybe it would have been better if she had flattened him with that leaking connector and been done with it.

Again. NOT HER FAULT. He was the one making himself crazy. Because he'd already pretty much fallen for her with just that one mischievous and friendly smile, that one welcoming and teasing comment, and most of all, that quick and measuring glance that erased her smile, straightened her spine, and yet could not remove the sparkles from her eyes. He felt welcomed by her, even as she'd recognized the new commander of the project. A formal and respectful welcome. It had warmed him in a way that he couldn't quite explain, and made the absolute decision to treat her properly feel so much easier. At the same time he'd inched just a little deeper towards a place he was not going to go. A crazy, bad place for crazy, bad people, and to repeat, he was neither.

And that was all before he'd learned her name.

A weaker man would have laid his head on the desk and wept, or gone out for a series of increasingly stiff drinks. Howling, that was also an option. He was going to do none of these. He was going to use all of his fierce and powerful intellect to figure out what he should do. Or at least keep banging his brain inside his skull until at least one possible solution survived the beating.

It came down to whether he told her or not. Whether he ignored it, the original option and still the best, or whether he admitted that, dammit, this was not something that you left by the side of the road. And once more, he'd veered into vocabulary that was not church going.

Tell her or not. Show her or not. Ask her or not. Because if his name was on her wrist…

Jack didn't howl, but he did take a very deep breath, and thought very slowly. If his name was on her wrist, he would go directly to the logical conclusion, do no pass go, do not collect anything. He'd just hand her the key to his apartment and tell her that she was welcome to everything he had. Including his heart.

If. Because it didn't always work out that way. And if it didn't, if someone else was her soulmate, he needed to keep very very carefully away from all this. Because in the past four hours, he had already accidently caught his brain practicing ways to propose marriage. Twice.

There was a knock at the door. "Come in," he barked. Then he looked at the clock. Gah! It had suddenly eaten up the 20 minutes he knew he'd had 5 seconds ago.

Two minutes early, Lila Brown stood in the doorway, not completely comfortable. "Aanderson told me to come at 1600. You wanted to tell me something, sir?"

Jack looked very hard and for the last time at Lila, closed his eyes, opened them and looked at Seaman Brown. "Yeah, come on in. I was wondering what you bunch of bubbleheads were doing on this project. They yanked you from no one's going to tell me where and dropped you here. Why?"

Lila looked uncomfortable (Brown, dammit, Brown!). "I can't really say, sir. It was a very confusing time. No one explained why our boat had to go into dry-dock, and I can't exactly say why the three of us ended here. I'm not complaining, sir. It's a great posting. But it sometimes feels like we were chosen alphabetically. ABC. Aanderson, Brown, Crane."

"So not your field of expertise."

"No, sir. We're mostly a sort of overpriced untrained labor."

"Trained for the submarines, and that's no small thing."

She couldn't hide a slight flash of pride, he noted. "No, sir, that's its own world. We're hard working and love a tight team."

"Sardines."

"If you say so, sir." A flash of silver, a quirk of a smile, and he had to stomp on his heart for a second, pleased to note that it backed down. Good dog, maybe we'll get out of this alive. "The thought of replacing the existing nuclear subs with ones using gravitational engines, I'm not sure how you could make that work for the speeds and distances we need to cover. We're tight on space as it is, and I don't think we can scale up and be at all useful. Even on the biggest carrier, it would be wasted."

Jack frowned and grunted. Not even close to her field of expertise, based on what he'd read in her file, and she was almost dead on target. Clever bitch. He liked that. (Smack. Down boy. Let the professionals do the talking. And watch your language.)

He heaved a deep sigh for more than one reason."Well, I'm going to rip this project to shreds. Thought I'd give you weirdos fair warning. What are you going to do about it?"

She looked thoughtful, head tilted very slightly. "Same thing as we always do. Work hard, show respect, help the team. More or less."

"Less? When less?"

She grinned full on, just for a second, and his heart would not be stomped on. It rose up to bask in the sunshine that fell on it. Dammit, if you won't back down, at least do me the favor of listening to her words. "Aanderson really needs his coffee in the morning. And I'm no prize when I'm hungry."

"And Crane?"

"If you don't rush the boy, he gets there. And please, if he starts to stutter, let him slow down."

Jack narrowed his eyes.

She looked defensive. "It never hampers communication, sir. Never. No repeats necessary. Never. A deep breath is all it takes. He's very young."

"And you're so old."

She grinned again, only slightly, and twice as swift. "Well, older than he is. Ours was his first boat, and I remember how hard it was, sometimes."

"Right. Coffee, food, air. You guys are making this too easy."

"Anything else, sir?" She'd picked up that the conversation was over.

Am I your soulmate? Or maybe you could throw me onto the I-5 freeway and let a bus run over me? Several buses. Jack shook his head. "Nope, nothing I'm going to bring up right now. We'll see how it runs, right? Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir." And with a turn on her heel she was gone.

Jack sat for exactly 45 seconds, breathing deeply. Then he stared at his other arm, which in opposition to standards was NOT covered with the patch of no natural color. People covered both sides in the military, generally. No one needed or usually wanted to know who your soulmate was, and wanted this even less about your worst enemy. But his was special, and besides it was too damn large to cover with anything short of a standard dish towel. A parade of equations, not particularly complicated once you'd done enough advanced college physics classes, marched from wrist to elbow, inside and out. The blues and reds flickered slightly deeper this afternoon.

Load, thrust, power. Everything necessary to get the Whale up and safe. He hadn't known what it meant at 13, but it had gotten him to finally crack a math book in 8th grade, had made him take the ROTC scholarship so he could keep going, had chosen his senior topic for him.

And now he had another reason to get it up and safe. Because if the Navy could drop bubbleheads into San Diego for no reason (or maybe they knew something about what was on his arm. Weren't supposed to, but everyone knew that was baloney. Hey, back to tolerable vocabulary, nice, have a dog biscuit.), if they could land her here, they could probably land her at the facility on the California/Nevada border. He expected nothing from her, make that clear, but he'd blow his store of clout to give her some luck. (And if they knew what was on her arm? Holy shit, please let that be the reason. And shit, bad dog, give that biscuit back, not just for language but because if she'd shown even a flicker of recognition he hadn't seen it. He'd certainly been watching closely enough.)

xcxcxcswitchxcxcxc

Meanwhile, back at the hangar, safe in the women's bathroom, Lila was having a serious staring contest with the mirror. "Not Jack. Not Francis. Definitely not Vandham. You KNOW this. Why am I even looking when I know what's there? It hasn't changed since this morning. Fool. It's your own arm." She pushed away from the sink, and peeled off the small khaki strip, on the wrong arm.

2054.07.16  
04:29:15

Date and time and counting down to something she already hated, even if she had no idea what it was. She shivered, reapplied the strip, gave her cheeks a bracing and none too gentle pinch, and headed back out to the work area. Time to be all that foolish talk, what was it, hardworking and team players? Whatever. Plus what she hadn't said, loyal to a man she'd just met. Whom she was supposed to be subtly undermining, if only as a test. Not that she hadn't already jettisoned that part, even before she'd met him. Had no one bothered to read his file? Honestly, this was not a man to wreck, he was too good. Nope, not happening, even less now than five hours earlier. She shrugged. She'd never really liked the name on her arm, too pretentious. She had a Sharpie. Maybe she'd do fate's job herself and just pick a different one.

xcxcxcswitchxcxcxc

(There was a point in his young life when Jack wanted to sound so much more sophisticated. He'd announced his new moniker at Thanksgiving dinner. He'd been fierce about it, but even his loving mother could barely say his newly chosen name with a straight face. His sisters, not so much. It had lasted for about 2 months before he finally gave up. Slightly after someone else, all unknowing, turned 13 and read a rather unlikely name on her wrist.)

* * *

 **A/N: Fluff! So much ridiculous fluff. Not part of the main arc. However, if this were the same universe as "Signs", this is totally how it would have gone down. I keep imagining how they finally show each other their tattoos, and just how soppy they behave - not sure if they find a bed or a chaplain first. Or maybe Lila completely misunderstands it, assuming that physics is Jack's true love and she is his arch enemy (poor thing, she does get the wrong idea easily). If it is on the White Whale campus, Jack probably drags her off to Nagi, demands that he marry them AT ONCE, and then calls a meeting to discuss the date on her other wrist. Very useful information, don't you think, and probably one of the reasons the Whale survived.**

 **I made up the day of the attack on Earth for 2016, the year I started writing this mess. The month and year are canon. The time is the Japanese release date. Francis, that one I made up completely. And yes, they are still watching "Casablanca" in 2049 (at least Vandham is, he's slowly turning into a film buff in my head).**

 **Nominations for Jack's fake name are open. I'm thinking "Jonquil", but feel free to offer something more ridiculous.**

 **For the love of clams, is that it? Yes, I think it is. Thus endeth "The Lily and the BLADE." I hope you enjoyed it. I have more, set post game, and when it is ready I will put it up, although it may take months. MONTHS! I tell you. "New Jack City." The beginning and ending are done, but I have to get the mess of another OC up first before I can approach the middle, since they intertwine. It will involve injury, tears, swears, frustration, a very annoyed Nagi, a Ma-non, a medi-pack, and a crowbar. Not nearly as much fluff, at least, I don't think there will be as much.**

 **XCX PORTANDA EST!  
And, with deepest gratitude,**

 **Thank you Monolith Soft.  
GOAT.**


End file.
